The Game
by Rendered Reversed
Summary: !MAJOR NON-MAGIC AU! VolDeMort, an infamously vicious PvPer. Scarred, a ridiculously lucky warrior. HBPrince, their unfortunate priest. Together, they're the smallest of the top 10 teams on CoS Online, and probably the most dysfunctional as well... Eventual TMR/HP SLASH, pairings inside.
1. The Player Behind Scarred

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Note: **This story will have some plot, but also have chapters that are simply snippets in time (like long drabbles). There will be timeskips, and because there are timeskips, there will be flashbacks (hopefully not the tacky ones, but I'm not pointing any fingers). The genre is also likely to change, depending on how much progress I make with the story as time goes. Who knows, I might toss in Romance, or I might put in Humor, or Adventure...

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**"H**arry Harry Harry!" Sirius yelled at the top of his lungs extremely fast. Considering that his godfather was naturally a boisterous person, Harry wondered if all the houses on the block could hear him.

Sighing, the student put down his pencil and turned towards the door to the hallway. Nothing stopped Sirius when he was excited, even if it meant bursting through all the doors in their (admittedly, quite large) house to find the victim to his excitement. Thankfully, Harry was simply in his room, an obvious first place to look, so Sirius need not look for long.

Lo and behold, said godfather burst through the door just then too.

"Hey pup!" For some reason, Sirius had taken to calling him that. He had said that when Harry was young, everyone was a sucker for his puppy dog eyes, not that he used them anymore these days... as far as the family knew. "Guess what?"

"Hello Sirius," Harry greeted calmly. This was probably a weekly experience. "What?"

Sirius practically beamed. "There's this new online game called Chamber of Secrets Online! It's gotten really good reviews so far, and now everyone—seriously, everyone!—has started playing it! The media's all over it too. It's gotten recognized globally, so they made global servers really quick... and Europe's just came out! America's already gotten theirs, and so has China and Korea. Japan's in the process, and-"

"So you've played it?" Harry cut off, though smiled indulgently afterwards to show his godfather that he had just been rambling.

Sirius nodded his head frantically. "German's out, French's out, and now English's out in the EU servers! Of course I had to try it!" Whether or not English came out was rather pointless, as the whole family was fluent with the other big languages in Europe, but that didn't really matter to Sirius. "I dragged James and Remus on with me too, and we're absolutely addicted!"

Harry laughed lightly as his godfather waved his arms about as he told his tale. "—and we formed a team together, and we brought down this humungous rat boss together, and, oh well James is a warrior and I'm a warrior and so is Remus but our teamwork is amazing if I do say so myself—"

"Does mum know?" The teen questioned, as Sirius seemed to be getting far off track.

At the mention of Lily, he deflated. "Yeah, she knows. We asked her to play with us but she didn't want to. Said it would waste too much time... she's very dedicated to her job."

"Yes," Harry agreed, "She is."

After a moment of silence, Sirius shot his godson a calculating look. "So..."

"Soooo what?" Harry halfheartedly teased.

Sirius grinned. "Want to try it? You can totally be in our team and then it'll be a big, manly family!"

"Don't let mum hear you say that. She just might force you all to wear skirts for a day."

The elder of the two grimaced. "...She would, wouldn't she?" Then, as if reminded of his task from the heavens, he gave Harry a pleading look. "Ha-rry! Please?"

Said male gave a small, apologetic smile to the eager man before him. "Sorry Sirius, but I'm swamped with work," he motioned to the papers and few textbooks lying haphazardly on his desk, "School's not so easy when it's competitive."

"Ah, okay," Sirius mumbled, looking downtrodden. If he had dog ears, they'd be lying flat against his head.

Harry smiled reassuringly. "We can all do something this weekend, okay? Finals will be over, so I'll have some free time."

Looking somewhat appeased, his godfather nodded and practically jogged out of the room, no doubt to inform everyone that they were going to have to make room in their schedules for the weekend.

Now alone, Harry glanced at his desk and sighed. Yes, he thought moodily, work. The private school his mother had put him in certainly had a lot of that. He certainly wouldn't complain out loud though. Both of his parents worked hard to be able to let them all live comfortably, Lily as one of the top doctors at her work place and James as a policeman, trying to save lives on the field like his wife. He was pretty high up the ladder, but that didn't stop him from helping outside sometimes.

Harry didn't know what he was going to be, but he wanted to do his parents proud. _And Remus and Sirius_, he added belatedly, _I want to make them proud too_. Sirius, as his godfather, came from an old wealthy family. He was disowned for rejecting their way of life, and worked now beside James at the station. Remus owned a bakery, small but immensely popular, and made sure to take care of Harry whenever no one else could. Remus had also taught him how to cook meals and bake pastries, something Harry secretly took joy in when everyone was out, almost as if to spoil himself. They all ended up living together, simply because they'd all be in one house most of the time anyways if they bothered to have separate homes. His mother and father's house was chosen because it was quite large (James came from a well off family too), and also because Lily was used to it and was pregnant with Harry at the time. No one wanted to upset a pregnant woman!

But sometimes, such a big family was exhausting. It wasn't big in quantity, so to speak, but everyone was so... unique. Everyone knew each other from their school years, though James and Sirius a bit longer as they were distant cousins, and everyone fit in with each other in their own way. There was no real moment of legitimate, peaceful rest unless everyone was out, and he still had work then too! Harry loved every single one of his family members, but he was so tired of pretending to be someone he wasn't. Perhaps it was his fault for even starting, but it was too late to go back now.

As a child, he hadn't wanted to be a burden to his parents. After all, so many other children at his pre-school seemed to always cause their guardians so much distress. Was he like that too? Harry used to ask privately to himself. As he slowly grew into his pre-teens, he then decided to become someone that his parents wouldn't have to worry overly much about. Oh, of course they were his mother and father, and of course they worried naturally for their only son, but work had been causing them to look so stressed lately, and Harry had thought it would be better to keep their fears to a minimum. He didn't want to be like one of the problem kids, who were forced to have parent conferences at the end of every grading period.

Then, as his family took his nature for being naturally inclined to studying, Harry was signed to attend a more competitive junior high school. Only the best for their son, James and Sirius had once boasted. His mother, of course, was overjoyed. She hadn't been able to have the privilege of going to private schools, as her family hadn't been able to afford it. Scholarships could only deal with so much, and though they greatly helped, that didn't mean the costs disappeared. Now, with a job that was generous in its pay, though perhaps taxing at the end of the day, she was able to give the opportunity to her son… her brilliant, darling son.

Lily came from the mid-lower class, like Remus, but no one could deny that they were both hardworking. His mother was a kind soul, though she had a temper, and Harry had always been able to relate to her more than his father. She was calm and calculating, but she cared about others at the same time. James was reckless, or could be, and though he had mellowed after school, he was still very outgoing. This somewhat easy personality was why Harry wasn't particularly concerned with being a shining pupil in his eyes. His father had gotten maybe slightly above average grades in school, but hadn't cared all too much for it anyways.

So naturally, with his mother so very excited about something that had to do with him and his _future_, Harry panicked. If he was told to name the one person who he didn't want to disappoint most in the world, his mother would easily take first place. Never mind the royal family, or foreign diplomats, or any Asian emperors; Lily Angelina Potter beat them all. And now by response, Harry had forced himself to become more studious and with that, more quiet. He worked hard, got one of the best grades in his year (which he maintained throughout junior high and even graduated with), and presented himself as smart, silent, and somewhat shy. This was mostly to keep others from bothering him in school while he focused on his work predominantly.

Harry liked to consider himself as average, which was why he worked so damn hard, but he also knew that no one average could manage to fool everyone, including his parents, for so many years. His fake personality just _wasn't like_ his natural one.

For one, Harry liked to consider himself as lazy. If he let himself do so, he could and would procrastinate until the very, tiny last second. The fact that he did well under pressure saved him more than once. Another thing about him was that he was curious... very, very curious. As scholar-Harry, as he had taken to calling his other self in his head, he would simply let it go, not wanting to stir any trouble. On the inside... well, curiosity killed the cat, and the only thing that kept it alive was its nine lives. In Harry's case, it was his tenacity. These parts of him his parents knew about, as when he was still a tiny, meter tall child he exhibited them with great enthusiasm.

Harry also was a cheeky brat, but no one ever really knew that one, mainly because it came with growing older and the strain of pretending. He had made himself quite the title; the quiet, anti-social person that everyone came to for help when they were stuck beyond comparison. Obviously, this happened quite often in a school filled with struggling students. The only reason that didn't endear himself to anyone was because he answered in short, concise sentences. No extra chit-chat. People tended to shy away from anyone who, very blatantly so, did not want to be talking to them, which was quite the good thing. Harry did not like being distracted from his goals, scholar-Harry or no.

Though, there would always be the persistent people. As small as their group was, they were still _there_, and because of their persistence, were quite loud presence-wise. In this case, their leader was Hermione Granger, a bookworm (and he used that term almost affectionately) who was not afraid to show her curiosity by being terribly blunt with her questioning. Harry would've sounded more annoyed in his description of her if she hadn't already worn away the sharpness of his attitude. She had persisted for years, first in his first year at the private junior high school his mother had chosen for him, and continuing on to this very day. They were probably equal in grades, which caused them to have similar classes.

With her, Granger (as he called her in his head when he wasn't forced by society to call her Hermione) brought Ron Weasley, a boy you normally would not expect to find in a competitive school. Unsurprisingly, they had been friends since childhood, and Granger was the sole source of motivation for him. She tugged, nagged, dragged, and occasionally yelled to get him to study, and sometimes it seemed so constant that most people could not picture Weasley without Granger. They were also dating, no surprise there either. With his girlfriend as his coach, Weasley managed to get decent enough grades in the school, and so also was able to keep his aunt's sponsoring. The Weasley family was not very well off, and it was probably only through great luck did his mother manage to convince her sister that Ronald was going to prosper at the school.

After two years in their company, Harry managed to attract another duo to their unofficial group. Luckily, they were not part of the persistent type that he so abhorred, and instead were simply looking for a kinship between outcasts and the occasional study group. Naturally, he spoke of the unique pairing that was Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Though he labeled it as unique, Harry knew that if those two weren't together, then something was dreadfully wrong with the universe… and it seemed like everyone else had that instinct fully burned into their scholarly minds as well.

It was like one of those tricks that teachers in pre-school teach you to remember things easier: you find Luna, you find Neville, and therefore vice versa.

Well, Harry certainly wasn't complaining about their appearance. He was fond of the two, and their presence mellowed out Granger's and Weasley's. Neville was quiet and understanding, just like Remus. Luna was calm and maybe a bit odd in the head, but most of the things she said happened to be bizarrely right. She was very subtly attuned to everyone around her, unmatched in the maze that was feelings. Compared to the former pairing's extremities, Harry quite liked having class with the two at the end of the day. They soothed the tiring process of knowledge being stuffed into his brain, and for that he was thankful.

Sometimes it was good to have Granger's nagging (goodness knows it had reminded him a couple times of some article of homework he would've forgotten), and sometimes it was good to have Weasley's easy-going, let's-just-have-fun type of personality around, but at the end of the day… Well, Harry figured having Luna and Neville there to quell the intensity was reason enough to add them in.

The added bonus of keeping his parents happy with his social interaction was also enough to keep them all around. If he happened to grow fond of them all along the way, well, that just made it easier to pretend, didn't it?

Well, all of that aside, procrastinating never got anything done, did it? The pile of homework was long finished, but the amount of self-study on the other hand…

Harry sighed. Perhaps he could dodge it? Maybe skim a bit, but all of the material was chapters ahead of where they were currently, and he already had a firm understanding of a lot of it… there was no real reason for an in-depth review, was there? He grimaced. But even if he took a break for once, what was he going to do? Go to sleep? Though that sounded like a mighty fine idea, it wasn't late enough to wake up tomorrow morning. Chances were, he'd wake up at 2 AM and just lie there, unable to fall back into the comforting arms of sleep and be forced to settle with a bout of insomnia. The thought simply wasn't all too appealing, and Harry frowned in disgust. He was a teenager. He finished all his homework. He wanted to skip a review session. Nothing unusual there, but the problem lied in the aftermath. If he skipped his review session, what the hell was he going to do?

Once again, he was a bloody teenager who couldn't find a way to entertain himself without studying. God, was he a loser or what?

Sometimes, Harry really regretted being the type of person who forgot to think ahead. He should've bought some new books while he was grabbing the practice test booklets from the store! But other times, Harry really loved being the type of person who could force-think up an idea. Being clueless was terrible; now if only he could make his mind think faster…

Wait, didn't Sirius say something about a new game that was out? What had it been, Chanter… Cellar… Chamber? Chamber of… Secrets…

"Hmm," Harry mused, "Sounds sort of interesting."

With that in mind, he easily moved up from his seat and stretched, almost as if he had been waiting to do so this whole time. Glancing down at his attire, Harry shrugged. _Good enough. _At least he wasn't in his pajamas or anything like that. He trotted down the hallway to the stairs, smoothly skipping every other step downward upon reaching it. Quickly checking the living room and seeing no one, he proceeded to the kitchen. The smell of food soon reached him, and he smiled.

"Hi mum," Harry greeted upon reaching the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room.

"Hello dear," Lily replied, sending her son a quick smile before turning her attention back to the stove. "Came down from your room for a quick snack?"

"Mmm... What are you making?"

"Just starting up on dinner, really. Remus is coming home late tonight, so he isn't here to help out. Luckily, your mother's tough and can handle herself just fine while making dinner for James _and _Sirius. I think I'm terribly lucky that you didn't get their big appetites too… Why, they probably out-eat five men!"

They both shared a light laugh at the running joke. His father's stomach, coupled with his godfather's, had always made for interesting stories from school that he was eagerly told by his mother. They had all attended a boarding school, Hogwarts, and so there had been many a time when their hunger had gotten them into… strange… situations.

"Do you mind if I head out for a bit before dinner then? I feel like I'm in need of some fresh air," Harry asked after some light conversation. His mother was always a joy to talk with, adding a spice of humor that none of his friends at school could. There were just some things that were different between talking with an adult and a teen, even if said teens were attending a school for the intelligent.

Lily looked at him oddly, as if wondering what caused this break in routine. On days like this, her son usually didn't come out of his room until dinner, and though she missed simply sitting and talking with him like so, she also knew he took his studies very seriously and that he didn't like to be disturbed, even if it was her. "As long as you're back before dinner's served, I don't see why that would be a problem. You're not overworking yourself, are you? There's nothing wrong with studying a lot to be prepared, but don't do it at the risk of your health…"

He smiled wryly, as if finding something very humorous in that statement. "I'm fine mum, just realized that it's been awhile since I've taken a walk in the neighborhood. A break for my eyes, if you will, and I'm most definitely not overworking myself," Harry frowned after a bit of thought, "you be careful too, won't you? I'm sure you have a lot of vacation hours built up, so if you ever feel that the hospital isn't as white as it should be and the walls look like they're spinning—"

His mother tittered in amusement. "Alright you, I get it. Lecturing your mother now about overworking? Are you sure James didn't say anything to you?"

Harry nodded seriously. "Dad didn't say anything. Sons take their mothers' health very seriously, though Sirius is ironically the exception here," Lily coughed to hide a snort of laughter, "And as the son of a well reputed doctor, I worry even more. Mum, I'm honestly just saying, if you ever think that the hospital has suddenly turned upside down, or black spots are appearing in your eyesight, or if some newbie doctor starts to hit on you—"

"James did say something to you!" she accused, though her eyes were alight with laughter. It was good to know her son wasn't serious to the point of never making a joke, and she discreetly hid a sigh of relief that Harry's sharp eyes nearly missed, but still caught.

Innocently, Harry shrugged.

"Sirius has already told me that your finals are over this weekend, so we'll go out to celebrate, okay? It should be fun," Lily nodded resolutely. "And no more worrying about your mother passing her limit, alright mister? That's your parent's job to worry. You just focus on school, dear, your schooling and your future."

"Alright mum," he easily replied while hopping off of the stool he had sat on. "I'll be heading out, then."

"Be back by dinner," she called after him.

"Will!" And the door slammed shut.

A few minutes later, Harry arrived at the local game shop. Considering the distance, that was actually quite fast, but he knew a lot of short cuts, and if he just so happened to walk a little faster along the way? Pure coincidence. His speed was naturally quicker than others, so it would affect his pace in walking too. There was a logical answer to everything.

Taking some time to look at the front before walking in, Harry was unsurprised to find it plastered with posters and cardboard cut-outs that showcased the exact game his godfather had been talking about, Chamber of Secrets Online (CoS for short). They were also very well done, the brilliant and colorful graphics taken straight from the game being very impressive. One of the cut outs displayed a character, who appeared to be the highest ranking player so far. All common methods for MMORPGs to be advertised, but nevertheless, they caught Harry's interest.

Something new. Something different. Excitement bubbled up in the pit of his stomach, causing a small smile to spread on his face as he pushed open the door.

Perhaps he'd like this game.

* * *

**Testing the waters here! My first Harry Potter fic, nevermind SLASH...** **er, I'm not even sure how to begin with that...**

**Well, if you see any mistakes, please leave a review to tell me! I'm also not a brit, so please alert me of any errors there too. I'll also be taking use of my creative license, as this _is _an AU... **

**Please note: the only pairing I have planned is eventual TMR/HP, and there's obviously cannon LE/JP & HG/RW with my pre-established NL/LL on the side too.**

THESE WILL NOT BE CHANGED.

**I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this, so if you'd like to suggest pairings or plot events or just say "Want some cookies? I have many." I'd appreciate you dropping some word, whether it be PMs or reviews (though preferrably the latter)...**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	2. Quest I: Kill Steal

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**W**ith a light sigh, Harry stretched both of his arms high above his head, entwining his fingers together and pulling until he heard a satisfactory creak. His homework was finished, his self studying had gone well, dinner was delicious, and now his textbooks were safely tucked away at the corner of his desk. All was well for the high school student, which was also why…

Harry sent a sly look out of the corner of his eyes towards his desktop. A smile made its way to his face, and he chuckled at himself. Even after a year and a half, he still felt so _giddy _when he was going to log on again. Chamber of Secrets Online, or CoS as everyone liked to call it, really did feel like a big secret to him. It felt like somewhere he could just be himself, without any restrictions as to how it would affect his future, or if it would have any unsavory consequences later on that would make it hard for him. Playing the game, he felt free.

Well, perhaps he couldn't credit it _all_ to the game… after all, he had met some _very_ interesting people, and wouldn't it be rude not to give credit where credit is due? Harry couldn't help but chuckle again. He was having fun, been having fun, in fact, and he would freely admit that to himself. Denying something that made him feel so happy just wasn't what Harry would ever do, and he was glad that was so.

Snapping out of his musings, he took another glance at his desktop. It wasn't all too far away from his study desk, and the appeal of taking what had quickly become his usual seat in front of the sleek, black, flat-screen-like monitor was all too tempting… especially now that he was officially done with his school work for the night. Harry would also admit to himself that it wasn't necessarily the thought of _playing _CoS that made him so eager. Rather, it was _who _he was going to play _with_. Well, it would be rude to keep them waiting, wouldn't it?

With that said, he practically floated over to his computer chair and, in a motion that had been repeated practically every night since he had purchased the game, booted up his computer. It didn't take too long to start up, and soon enough he was setting up the programs that would allow him to communicate with his companions more efficiently. Before signing on, however, Harry took a glance at his bedroom door. It was closed, naturally, and everyone in the house knew it wasn't a very good idea to interrupt his studying unless it was important…

He paused. Well, it wasn't like anyone would need anything at this hour, right? It wasn't midnight-late, but it was late enough that you didn't go knocking on your family members' bedroom doors, so it should be fine… but call it paranoia, Harry still got up and locked his door. His anxiety was now firmly put to rest; the teenager took his seat and finally slipped the headphones over his ears. Experimentally, he spoke into the mic and waved his hand in range of the camera to make sure there was no lag. He was pleased when the program before him green-lighted his check for both.

Harry logged on, becoming the player Scarred in a flash. Hopefully there would be some good news today from his fellow teammates; God knows that his day hadn't gone so well…

_VolDeMort has invited you to the party. Accept?_

Harry grinned. _He sure was quick about it_. "Hey Voldie! How many people have you killed today?"

Tom scowled. "How many times have I told you not to call me that, imp? As to your question, five."

Well used to their quick trade-offs, Harry ignored the first part. "Five? Only? What, are you happy or something?"

"No," the other man growled, "I am most definitely not happy, as you put it. I got off from work late."

"Ah," Harry nodded in sympathy. "Rough day?"

"An understatement," Tom snipped, "Where is Prince? He's usually earlier than you."

"Hell if I know," Harry shrugged, in the process of making his way over to VolDeMort. Severus hadn't said anything to him at school today, other than a couple of degrading names. Harry took it all in stride; they were, after all, sort of like secret frenemies... not that he'd ever admit that out loud. He snickered as he suddenly thought of the horrified face Severus would make. Oh, the poor man would be completely frozen in shock and terror! Harry wasn't sadistic in any means, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy a good laugh at his teacher's expense, as hypothetical as it was.

Tom raised a brow. "Oh, err, nothing," Harry replied to the unspoken question. He tried to cover his snickering by coughing. "Just, y'know, he might be still stuck at work or something. Sev didn't look too happy when I saw him."

Tom snorted. "Is he ever?"

"Of course!" Harry replied, almost obnoxiously cheerful. "All the time, especially when he's insulting other students!"

"I don't believe you," Tom immediately said. "Prince does not seem like the type to take extensive joy from that, no matter how amusing it probably is to see offensive barbs flying right over their immature heads. Besides, one would think he would take greater entertainment from insulting you."

"He most definitely would," Harry all-too-calmly agreed, "if I didn't know all of his insults already."

"Of course you do," Tom deadpanned. He sighed, and shook his head. "Of course you do..."

_HBPrince has logged in!_

"Ooo, he's on, he's on!" Harry declared as he promptly invited their third teammate to the party. "Hi Sev!" He greeted in party chat.

"Hello to you too you ungrateful, hormone-controlled brat," Severus snarled.

"He's not very happy ATM," said brat murmured to Tom.

Tom sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "What's put you in a decidedly right mood today, Prince?"

"Those damnable brats we are forced by contract to call students," Severus practically growled out. "Do you have any idea what teachers do for you, you little spawn of Satan? Do you have any idea the lengths we go through for your future?"

"Sev?" Harry blinked, but was completely ignored. Severus was apparently on a roll.

"We always go overtime, every single day, and do not receive any type of compensation for it. In fact, it's practically normal! Not to mention, every meeting we spend at least a quarter of our time discussing how to improve in our methods to get you all to learn. Yet all you brats are so terribly inconsiderate, never thinking about how everything's served to you on a silver platter..." He broke off into angry muttering.

"Aw, it's okay Severus. If we showed that we cared, it'd only freak the teachers out," said Harry comfortingly. "So, with the assumption that your terribly out-of-character rant was caused by something, what sort of extracurricular, takes-up-time-but-lets-the-students-slack-off event are we having next?"

Tom snorted again at the predictability of his teammates, but did not say anything.

"A field trip," Severus finally replied moodily. "A blasted field trip... and as to where, we're debating between science museum, national park, or art museum."

"Well, it's something," Harry shrugged, inwardly praying for national park. Being out in nature always relaxed him, even though he really didn't do it too often, with what the studious image he had to keep up. When he was little, there were a couple of times where the family had gone out camping. He had treasured those moments, happy when he had breathed in the unique scent of the woods.

"...You both are ridiculous," Tom finally said, sounding tiredly resigned.

"We've grown on you, Voldie, might as well admit it," Harry grinned, PMing their location to Severus so he could teleport there when he got in range. Being a priest, Severus had many utility skills that were very useful when lazy, not to mention they saved time.

"I will do no such thing, imp," Tom snapped, but did not sound as sharp as he usually was to other people. Harry smiled fondly, keeping his mouth closed lest he let loose some of his thoughts. VolDeMort probably wouldn't appreciate being called a big ol' softie. Call him crazy, though he really would prefer if he wasn't, but it was times like these when he really loved his team. Talking to Sev and Voldie always made him feel better.

"Mhm, so now that Sev's here, what say you to a bit of grinding on old Norbert? Getting a couple of pairs of dragon armor to sell never hurt after everyone's had a lousy day."

"Only you could make them a couple of pairs, or good enough to sell at all, you lucky brat," Severus grumbled, adding in the nickname by habit. Dragon armor was a rare drop, but really had only a slightly above average range of stats. The reason why they were so amazing was the bonus stats that getting an armor drop gave. For some reason, dragon armor's bonus stats had a small chance of being extremely good, or at least much better than most boss armor drops. Though, getting a decent pair—never mind good, or even the aforementioned amazing!—was hard enough... several in one day was something that only happened for Harry. Of course, his team made sure to abuse this lucky and routine occurrence to the fullest of their abilities. Considering that they had a very high ability cap, however…

"By everyone, you also mean you?" Tom inquired, focused mostly on Harry's last comment.

"Hmm? Yeah, of course," he answered, his train of thought suddenly falling off its rails.

"I can't quite recall you complaining about having a bad day. Care to enlighten us?" He sounded nonchalant, but Harry knew better. They knew each other well, VolDeMort and Scarred, having played together for roughly a year and a half by now; almost the full time Harry had played CoS. Throughout that time, the former had grown to care for the latter, almost like some sort of pseudo-guardian in the way he worried, not that said worrier would ever admit that he did so. In fact, if Harry didn't know better, he'd almost say that his companion _coddled_ him sometimes, in the vaguest sense of the word. When he had needed to rant, the other listened, or when he was feeling happy and excited, the other indulged, and it always worked the other way around too.

So Harry decided to indulge their resident dark lord, as Severus knew at least half of the story anyways… and had already taken care of as much as he could.

"Well, in math we had a pop quiz that I was definitely not ready for, and English had an in class essay with the teacher having been drunk on caffeine, so he wouldn't stop talking. Some arseholes decided I was the reason their locker looked like a garbage dump,—not that I walked by their locker and said something, I mean all I did was raise my eyebrow when they gave me a strange look!—so I had to strategically retreat. Luckily, I ran into Sev, who saved me just in time. Anyways, at lunch, Weasley spilt his drink on Granger's homework, so the whole cafeteria had to listen to her shriek like a banshee at him. Terrible for my ears, I'm telling you. Phys. Ed. had the revenge of the gits, who told their friends about my timely escape. Coincidentally, we were playing dodge ball... so I spent the whole period dodging rubber balls—and before you say it, of course I didn't get hit! Who do you think I am? Dodged every single one, I did, and with little to no difficulty, so there. Then, right after school, there was a car accident near the entrance so the parking lot was jam packed. It took forever to get out! Afterwards, Dad went off on some dangerous job, so mum was in a bad mood, which meant dinner sucked. On top of that, I had a ridiculous amount of homework—" Severus winced, "—which took about all day to finish. So yeah," Harry paused, "I'd think today was a bad day."

Not mentioning, of course, all of the other little things that seemed to really push the envelope. But Harry wasn't going to say anything about that; indulgence only went so far.

There was silence and tension afterwards, until Severus finally cut in to Tom's furious glaring at nothing at all. "Dragon armor's price is rising in the market. A lot of inexperienced players are most likely hunting Norbert now. Shall we head off to claim a spot before competition gets too lively?"

He received a sharp nod from Tom for his troubles. "Let's."

Once they reached the hunting grounds, all earlier tension was forgotten. It was almost a ritual by now; if one of them had a bad day, they'd talk about it for the first few minutes online. From each other, they'd possibly receive a round of comments, or simply a gesture of sympathy (we've all had those bad days…) and then they'd switch back to game-mode. This, they silently found, helped a lot with dealing with outside fatigue. In their own ways, they all were the type of people who stood in the misunderstood category, be it on purpose or not. People simply didn't think like they did, and it was perhaps why they all fell in so seamlessly with each other.

It felt natural because they all, to an extent, understood… whether that was understanding that they didn't or not.

Sentimentalities aside, Harry took note that Severus was, in fact, right, and not for the first time. The map was actually flooded with players, and it was probably only because his desktop was one of the newer models that he experienced little to no lag. There were groups of two, three, four and more players together, and probably some newbie teams allied with another as well. "…Are you sure you guys want to do this today?" he asked his team.

VolDeMort sneered. "An abundance of players never stopped us before. Unless you're lagging to the point of Hell and beyond, there's no reason to leave."

Severus inclined his head. "Let's try CCing instead; this channel might be the worst off."

A couple minutes later, it was proven that no, that channel _wasn't _the most crowded, and was in fact normal.

"Want to try KSing someone's dragon?"

Harry frowned. "That's mean, though…"

Their magic attacker rolled his eyes. "It's not like they're going to get dragon armor out of it anyways, and even if they did, who says it's good? We're helping them out by giving them a chance to buy a pair right on the map."

"Whatever," he shrugged, "But I'm not going to be the one KSing. We're in a party, so we should get the drop anyways even if I don't participate." Hopefully that would deter him. Since Severus was a priest, he didn't deal any damage, and that meant Voldie would have to KS it on his own. The chance of that happening and the repercussions, of course—

"Brat, you do know he's going to take that as permission to do whatever he wants, right?" Severus mused, "He's a dark lord, and on top of that, a 70-win streak PvPer who is gaining more by the day. By now, his fame is so negative that there should be an option on the website to check who has the lowest points. There's no reason for him to let a bit of defaming stop him."

Alarmed and somewhat angry at himself for completely forgetting, Harry opened his mouth to take back what he had just said, but it was too late. VolDeMort was already ghosting into the map, and Norbert the Dragon boss had already spawned. Between the massive amounts of players, his HP was quickly lowering, and though he was by no means a higher level boss, Norbert had a healthy amount of defense and health.

Of course, this was exactly the type of thing their dark lord would take advantage of.

At a little less than half health, he struck. VolDeMort first started off with cursing the dragon, chipping away its HP slowly by the second. Then, he sent out a continuous burst of dark, quick-speed magic that he had become so infamous for. No one was a faster spell-caster than VolDeMort, and the way he combined them all into a combo allowed for maximum damage. Obviously, Norbert was taking some serious hits right now. They were "lucky" that the channel didn't have any extremely high level players, as they probably would've recognized this by now and spammed the correct spells to stop the KS.

As a finishing blow and kill securer, VolDeMort sent out a taunting spell to the boss. This attracted his aggro, or aggressive behavior, and made Norbert chase after him while ignoring all other players. Normally, this was a terrible move to have on a wizard. Who wanted to attract aggro while you didn't have nearly enough health or defenses to live through attacks?

Two requirements needed to successfully kill-steal a boss were one, to have dealt most of the damage, and two, to get the last hit. One usually mattered most and two was glitchy in the way that sometimes it mattered, and sometimes it didn't. An unspoken "three" to improve your chances was to have the boss' aggro on you.

Keen eyes took in his curse's damage past all of the other spamming of attacks, and at precisely the right moment, the dark lord sent out a measly fireball attack to kill it. Whether this was or was not to mock the other players, as fireball was the first spell a level ten mage could learn, would never really be known. If VolDeMort chose it specifically for its low damage output, or perhaps to disguise the fact that _he _had gotten the kill instead…

Harry sighed. On the ground where the rest of the loot was, appeared a set of dragon armor, bottom and top, which meant only one thing; only one person was lucky enough for that to happen (two dragon armor equips dropping was practically unorthodox), and Harry would bet half of his in-game fortune that the stats on them were one of the highest possible. VolDeMort obviously had gotten the kill, and his abuse of Harry's good luck had gone swimmingly.

Around the area where the boss had been, there was a chorus of talk bubbles echoing the same thing ("WTF?", and "?", and "WHO GOT THE KILL?") as all parties tried to pick up the loot. Obviously, they could not, and in a couple seconds, the system would announce who had _really _killed the dragon.

_Boss Norbert has been slain by player: VolDeMort!_

Pleased, Severus chuckled and congratulated their team mate. "Well done," he said with a smirk on his face.

"Thank you, Prince," Tom replied with a matching smirk. His character stalked forward to claim the items, and almost like they all had PMed each other to do _exactly _the same thing, all the players standing on the drops moved away.

When Scarred and VolDeMort first met, the latter was already gaining fame as a terrifying PvPer, someone no one really wanted to find themselves fighting if they wanted to keep a win-streak. His character had been dressed in a simple black cloak with a hood that went over his head, and the only attribute visible through it other than pale skin was red, glowing eyes. Harry had been impressed at first; the arrival of VolDeMort in a regular training map, never mind a boss hunting map, caused a wave of players to part as if to try and see the dangerous character. The dark lord had simply smirked, much like what he was doing now.

He had, after all was said and done, gained respect in the inner circle of players, who were old-timers for the game (Harry couldn't blame them, really, as in the beginning he too admired the PvPer). They were all players on the rankings, and when VolDeMort decided to go out and find himself a team instead of running solo, many who still did not have the maximum team member amount rushed to recruit him.

Harry had once found himself smugly thinking that he had been picked instead of them. Then he had slapped himself and furiously thought that if the man had been more of a prat than he had been when they first met, he would've blocked VolDeMort and that would've been the end of that. They had decided to team up together, mutually, as Scarred was a strong player even without his curious luck. It had been a long time since then, and though Harry had grown out of his admiration for the man—they simply knew each other too well!—that didn't mean his respect had lowered by any margin.

He found himself shaking his head at the screen and grinning despite himself. Now, the newbie players, who had no idea who the hell VolDeMort was, were screaming for defame. The others, who had a very good idea who he was and knew that this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, quickly started to call out waves of "HI VOLDEMORT!", and "DUDE LMAO NICE KS!", not to mention the always there "CAN I HAVE A SCREENSHOT WITH YOU?".

Severus seemed amused as well, and snorted at some of the more creative lines that others typed out. "Your fame goes down by the buckets, but your popularity and surprising fan base is still ever growing. I'm surprised that all of the negative fame hasn't been made positive yet."

"That's because his fan base is defaming him too," Harry replied with a cheeky grin, "It's apparently 'his thing' now, and if that number moves anywhere that isn't higher, they're really quick to press the down arrow. What are they calling themselves these days, the Life Stealers? Doom Bringers? Corpse Munchers? Death Eaters?" The names of the fan club was referring to VolDeMort's English translation: flight from death and also his amazing PvP abilities.

Tom sent Harry a fairly amused look. "Ah, yes, but you defamed me the first time we met too."

"And that," the warrior sent him level look, "was because you were being a prat."

"Wasn't blocked by you, was I?"

"Shut up Voldie."

Ignoring the habitual bickering between his two team mates, Severus quickly interceded. "Stat check on dragon armor?"

Tom's eyes flickered back to the game. "Top has +30 strength and +10% HP… Bottom has +31 dexterity… not bad, imp. These will sell."

"Price check?" Severus called again.

"I'm thinking 5M for the top and 6M for the bottom, but those were old prices…" Harry uncertainly replied, "Let's check the market later. Only bringing in two while we're already here is a waste."

"And you say_ I_ abuse your luck…" Tom muttered.

He shrugged in reply. "I'm joining you for this round."

"I'll buff then when it spawns. You need heal?" the priest idly asked, already on the website to check how the online market was looking.

"Nah, you can relax Sev. I'm going to max taunt though, so attack speed buff and defense buff along with shield would be nice."

Hearing their warrior's words, the dark lord smirked. When Scarred max taunted, no one could pull aggro away. They'd probably run a good haul today, seeing as he was in the mood.

"Focus on last hitting, 'kay Voldie?"

"You don't need to tell me twice," was the prompt response.

Harry nodded, and through the camera his team mates saw him stretch his arms and crack his neck. "Well then, I'll be counting on you again for tonight." When everyone made some noise of agreement, he grinned. Harry really loved his team.

* * *

**PvP(er):** Player vs Player, PvPer is someone who fights other players in matches; this is a mutual agreement and does not count as a PK.

**PK: **Player Kill(er); does not need -er to refer to a person in its acronym form; Player Kill is like murder instead of an arrangement to duel; usually in games there is a specific area where you can PK, otherwise you cannot just go around killing people ("I got fucking PKed earlier when I tried to scavenge some items at _..." or "Careful! That guy is a famous PK!")

**PvE: **Player vs Environment, PvEer is someone who, almost exclusively, does not PvP and focuses instead on just questing and fighting against monsters

**ATM: **At the moment; does NOT refer to an ATM machine... ("Sort of busy ATM! Could you call back later?")

**PM: **Private message; used with -ing makes it an action ("I'll PM you the directions, okay?")

**KS: **Kill steal; the act of taking another player's/party's monster kill and thereby also taking the items that it drops ("Fuck! Someone totally KSed me!")

**blocking: **Literally, to block someone's chat in any attempt to communicate with you, or to just plain block their text; the block list is the opposite of the friends list

**aggro: **As explained in story; this term is also commonly used to refer to monsters that attack you without being attacked first; abbreviation from aggressive ("Watch out! Those monsters are aggro!")

**stats: **Like defense, magic defense, attack, magic attack, etc.

**bonus stats: **Like dexterity (DEX), strength (STR), intelligence (INT), willpower (WP), luck (LUK), and in this case, HP (health points) and MP (mana points); sometimes also refers to accuracy (ACC); If equipment is bought in a store, they usually do not come with extra bonus stats, though they are there. Monster drops specifically give you a chance of obtaining extra bonus stats, though it is mostly random ("Aw crap, this staff has STR instead of INT! What a sucky drop!")

**fame system: **usually self explanatory; you either get "famed" or "defamed" by a person; defaming is commonly used to express someone's rage at you... though reporting you also serves as an annoyance; some games have fame rankings; does not have much use in some games, and in others it can; occasionally some equips require you to have high fame to use ("Ah... I don't have enough fame to wear this! Hey, can you fame me? I'll pay you 5K!")

**currency: **K is thousands, M is millions, B is billions; M is occasionally mil and B is occasionally bil

**Yeah, fast chapter... probably not going to happen again lmao.**

**Thanks for your comments! I'd love to get some more, especially because this chapter is the first taste into the game-verse! Was it confusing? Did you not understand something? Or you could just tell me what you think: "Voldie is a total bad-ass!" "You killed Norbert! D:!" PMs or reviews are always welcome ^_^**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	3. Quest II: Necromancy vs Lordship

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**L**ogging on, Harry had only one goal on his mind. Like usual, his two other team mates were already online, the only thing different being that they were quite irritated with him. "My God, child! Where've you been? You're absolutely late!" Severus shouted when their third member finally connected to the server. He was promptly startled by the serious look that Harry wore.

"Sorry, but it was important. In fact," Harry looked dead-straight at VolDeMort, "I have to ask you something, do you mind answering to the best of your abilities?"

Tom raised a brow. "Part of the reason you were late?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, alright then," he made a gesture to continue, "Let's hear it."

The younger took in a deep breath before saying anything; clearly this matter was of great seriousness to him. "VolDeMort…" he began, "why are you a dark lord?"

Tom blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Why are you a dark lord?" Harry repeated.

"It's the job advancement from warlock."

"And?"

"…Warlock is the job advancement from dark wizard."

"That's not what… I… no, I mean… argh!" Harry cried out, his frustration clear in how he had even thrown his hands up in the air. "What I'm trying to say is…!"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you become a necromancer?" He finally blurted out and the determination, in addition to righteous indignation, that was reflected in his eyes was almost comical. Severus rolled his eyes and made a big show of sighing. He had given up on his irritation by now, and instead settled in for what was going to be one of _those _days…

"A necromancer?" Tom mused, "Well, I suppose I did think about it. Raising the dead ought to be amusing, but dark lord sounds just that bit more menacing, doesn't it?"

"But if you were a necromancer, we could've revived things to fight on our side! Skeletons Voldie! Or players too! The walking dead at our beck and call—"

"If this is some new fad you teenagers are getting into," Tom began seriously, "I like what it's done. You've never been the most sadistic youth, but I suppose you've grown out of your innocence now. What say you to a round of hack n' slash PvP now, imp?"

"You're missing the entire point here, Voldie!" Harry yelled, "Think of all the bosses that we could've killed easily! What with the mobs they summon, if you were a necromancer you could've just revived them to fight for us! They could've been meat shields! And Sev wouldn't had have to buff me with all those extra defense buffs… he could've spent that mana on something more productive!"

Sighing, the dark lord shook his head. "Oh, that's what it was. Guess it's too soon for you. And are you honestly complaining about my class choice just because we've been forced to use you as a tank all these years?"

"We've only played together for_ one_ year," Harry idly reminded, as if he had been forced to many times over. "Anyways, that's not the only reason why I'm upset! Though, I'm really not the tanky type of warrior, so you guys _were _in the wrong to use me like that… No! I'm getting off topic!"

Severus reached for the bag of gummy bears he kept on standby next to his computer. There was always a chance that one of _these _days would pop up, no matter how few they had been getting. _In fact_, he took a glance at the calendar, _it was about time that one of these days would come. They can't go too long without arguing about something ridiculous, it's their main source of entertainment… Not to mention mine._ He plopped a candy into his mouth whole, humming as he tasted green apple. _Mmm… my favorite._ These days really weren't productive for the team, and most of their whole session would be spent debating whatever issue it was until something interrupted them.

Most of the time, Severus preferred to lean back and watch. They were adults, err, VolDeMort was anyways, and he wasn't going to referee their bickering all the time. He certainly didn't want the job of being their baby sitter, as if to make nice between the little kiddies.

"I don't really see what your problem is," Tom replied, utterly calm, "Necromancers are a fun class, but being a dark lord has gotten us out of our fair share of situations. You can't have forgotten that time I saved your scrawny behind from the tree demon boss, have you?" This was news. The priest perked up at the mention of an event he hadn't been present for, eager to either get blackmail material or gain insight into the strange relationship VolDeMort and Scarred had.

Harry scowled. "Yeah yeah, I remember. But—"

"That tree demon had you, and didn't you know it. If it weren't for the Soul Bind skill _exclusive _to the dark lord class, you would've had to grind up five percent of EXP. Not to mention the Elder charm we got as the drop that _wouldn't have happened_," Tom smoothly cut in.

Severus raised a brow. "Elder charm? Aren't those 500M on the market?"

A devilish smirk graced the dark lord's flawless features. "Yes, they are, and they were 600M when we sold it. In fact, wasn't that 600M part of the funds used to buy your current weapon…?"

"But," Harry shoved his way back in, "But the necromancer class could've pulled me back in at double the strength. They have a skill called Death's Rampage, which would've brought me back with 2X the attack and defense I currently had at the sacrifice of half my HP. I would've destroyed that tree demon if I could've gotten in another hit, and you know it."

Tom's smirk twitched downwards into a frown. "Your EXP—"

"Don't you read, Voldie?" the warrior combated with a smug expression, "They also have a passive called Necro-Revival, which negates all consequences death could've caused to a player that they revived."

"Of course I read, imp!" Tom snapped, "Necro-Revival is a passive that they learn, yes, I know that, but at my current level then, I would not have been able to learn it! Necro-Revival requires Complete Revival to be maxed, and the earliest you can max_ that _would be 120, under the assumption that you did not put skill points on anything else… which, to have a successful necromancer, you would need to."

Harry frowned. "But if you had been a necromancer then, I wouldn't have even been near death, right? Because I was tanking aggro for you from the mobs _and _the boss, so if you were a necromancer we could've re-animated them all to be meat shields."

"The boss had a long range attack, remember? It was a lock-on, and you would've had aggro anyways. Meat shields would do nothing for you in that situation," Tom pointed out.

"It might've been a lock-on, but you can still dodge those. And I most certainly would've! I'm an agility warrior, _remember?_"

The older shook his head in disagreement. "The attack caused curse, so you would have had to dodge every single one to be able to keep up like that. Curse lowers _speed_ and defense as it chips away at your health; I remember hearing about that and warning you beforehand."

"Easily solved by a necromancer!" Harry proclaimed, "They have Malady Transfer, a skill that allows them to move any status effects to another party member _or _one of their revived minions."

"It also takes a hell of a lot MP," Tom noted, "Which would've stopped me from being able to keep the minions animated."

"Yes, but all mages have basic MP Drain as a passive! Wouldn't that cover a lot of it?"

"Correction: it takes a hell of a lot MP _with _drain."

Harry huffed. "What if you were a support necromancer? They could've countered that by having—"

It continued on in this vein for several minutes, and Severus found himself being surprised by how much the brat actually _knew about necromancers. _That wasn't knowledge a warrior usually had, and as their trade-offs didn't show sign of either stopping yet, his curiosity grew. Eventually, he could take it no longer and interrupted their debate for a brief intermission.

"Where did you learn so much about necromancers, brat?" he barked, though anyone who really knew him could tell it was only for appearances.

Harry turned away momentarily from their fight and sent a shrug Severus' way. "Read a couple of guides," he admitted, "and heard some people at the cafeteria debating about 'em. Their skills sounded wicked, so I looked them up."

Tom snorted. "Leave it to you to cram all the information into your brain right before a session." It was said gruffly, but there was a hidden affection inside that Harry easily picked out.

"You're a genius Voldie," he pointed out, "Literally. With eidetic memory and everything. The only thing I have going for me is being able to cram. Of course I have to use it to my fullest abilities!"

"Don't forget your ridiculous luck, brat," Severus was quick to input.

Said lucky brat shrugged again. "Well, our resident dark lord takes advantage of that almost daily, so…"

Fully distracted by now from the recent argument, the whole team drifted off to mindless conversation. Sometime during that transition, Severus tucked away his gummy bears, setting them on standby again until the next time the two fought. He'd have to get a new pack soon… they were almost finished. Not really in the mood to do anything, they continued talking for a good hour more, discussing and complaining and teasing.

"Oh yeah, Sev, did everything sell alright?" Harry asked at one point in their conversation.

"Mm… well enough, I suppose. I had to drop a few prices, but not by much. We still made a decent profit."

"I'm surprised you even had to, Prince," Tom mused, "You're usually on the top of your game in the market."

Severus sneered. "Originally, my planned prices would have very well sold. Then some idiot just _had to_ put in five Blank Charm Slots for cheap _at the same time_ and completely throw the pendant prices… which then threw off the armor prices of those that needed to be imbued to be usable. Honestly, players these days… Don't even have the right to be called merchants…"

Harry gave him a lop-sided smile. "Well, if you want revenge, we could always grab and farm all of the high-level upgrade ores. Then we could throw the market for fun!" The two other team members snorted at their youngest, fairly amused that Harry would do such a thing. It wasn't often that he wanted to play merchant…

Conversation lulled again, and soon enough, Harry found himself yawning. It surprised the other two, and soon enough they were all scrambling to look at a clock.

"Tired?" Tom asked. His gaze softened at the sight of a sleepy Harry.

"Mhmm…" Harry mumbled, nodding and resting his head against the table. His eyelids were half closed, and his glasses were slightly lop-sided because of his strange head arrangement.

"It's past midnight," Severus noted, "Go to bed. I'm not going to go easy on you if you fall asleep in my class, brat."

"'Kay Sev. Night Voldie." The two bid him good night, each murmuring that they were going to turn in as well. Today hadn't been typical, but it did happen often enough to be familiar.

As Harry finished his preparations and climbed into bed, he yawned again. They hadn't been productive today, but that didn't really matter in the long run. He couldn't imagine playing CoS without VolDeMort, or HBPrince. They were two figures he liked to think as constants.

Severus he knew in real life, being his chemistry teacher and a childhood friend of his mother's. VolDeMort, on the other hand, he did not know, and the fact that he didn't sometimes worried him. If something were to happen to him, how would Harry know? Certainly if they passed on the street he would recognize the older player, but he had no name, no identity. All Harry had of the man was the familiarity and snippets of the other's life, and that would usually be enough, but sometimes he did worry. Hypothetical situations may be just that—hypothetical—but they were also possible.

On the edge of sleep, he liked to think that VolDeMort wondered about him occasionally too. They met first, after all, before Severus came into the picture. Had the man entertained the thought of meeting with him? It had taken awhile before they had agreed to video-chat. Was he wondering about Harry as well? They gave no names to each other, and that was how it always had been.

Sure, there were exceptions like Severus for Harry, but that was because he had slipped one too many times in the past… and… God, he was making excuses for himself. How pathetic was that?

_Has he thought of me on the brink of sleep too? Just like this?_

* * *

**Yes, VolDeMort's class really is Dark Lord. It's confirmed xD. **

**A lot of game stuff appeared in this chapter, so please review or PM me the issue if you don't understand something! I tried to show you a peek into their daily routine, and this is how it usually goes on **_those_ **days.**_  
_

**Pretty short, too, but next chapter will be definitely longer! Thank you all for your favorites and follows *~* Review?**

**Ah, also I would like to note that I have no beta reader. If there are any errors text-wise/grammar-wise, please tell me of those too so I can fix them!**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	4. Quest III: Crafty Coincidences

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

Harry was happy. Ridiculously happy, actually, and if it weren't for that fact that he was in the library at school right now and it wasn't even _near_ the end of the day, he would've shown it. A tell-tale smile was on his face, odd for scholar-Harry, but his head was ducked low and his eyes focused on the page before him. No one would know.

"You've been on that page for five minutes, Harry. Are you sure the wrackspurts aren't bothering you more than usual? I'll tell them to back off if you want, but you really seem sort of pleased with them there."

Luna Lovegood, he corrected himself, no one would know except for sweet, odd Luna. Gently, Harry pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and then turned to look up at the girl. She sat on the edge of his table, something the librarian always failed to notice, and was smiling her odd smile that she usually wore, ears still having small turnips dangling down from them. The only real exception to her appearance today was her eyes, soft and slightly concerned. It was only because he seemed to be in an exceptional mood today that she hadn't commented on it earlier, but clearly his lack of attention towards his book had disturbed her enough to say something.

"I'm quite alright," he reassured.

The blonde cocked her head to the side, studying him with a curious look. Satisfied after she had found what she was looking for, Luna nodded in a pleased sort-of-way. "Alright then," she said.

As soon as he was about to turn back to the page he had been blankly staring at, a whispered yell came from across the room. "Harry!" Ron Weasley called, and Granger shushed him before leading the way towards the table he was always found at. Harry sighed. Perhaps nothing could ruin his good mood, but that didn't stop his table from no longer being… well, empty. Luna never really disrupted him, but these two… He set his book down and saved his page with a bookmark, promising to get back to it later.

"Harry!" This time, it was Granger who said it, except in a much quieter tone.

"Hello Hermione, Ron," he greeted politely. "Anything I can do for you?" Please say no.

"We were just wondering if you were alright, mate," Weasley said, frowning slightly, "You looked sort of off in class… I mean, usually you're always paying attention, but you didn't seem to be as… err…"

"What Ron means is that you looked distracted today. Is anything wrong?" Granger finished.

"I'm honestly fine, though thanks for asking, I suppose," Harry inwardly cursed himself. Had he really been that off? Sure, his thoughts had drifted a bit during class, but he didn't really expect that to have a physical difference in him… _Perhaps I should pay more attention,_ he grimly thought.

Granger gave him a suspicious look. She never took anything at face value, no matter if he was really fine or not. In this case, he certainly was healthy, and nothing was wrong with him. Luna could vouch for him, he supposed, but perhaps she wasn't the best choice. Granger might even get more suspicious, and though there wasn't anything wrong with a bout of curiosity, not everything had a hidden meaning behind it. Weasley was easily appeased, but his girlfriend seemed to be the opposite of him in many respects. He was just happy, for crying out loud! What was wrong with that?

"You're not getting sick, are you?" she prodded, and this would normally work on a sick person, but he hadn't been ill for a whole year.

"No," he replied, "I'm certainly not. I can't say I'm feeling any different either."

She pursed her lips, furrowing her brows lightly as if she was indecisive on whether or not to drop the matter. Thankfully, that was about the same time that Neville walked in, and he greeted them all before turning his head towards Harry in a questioning look.

"Harry's just fine," Luna cut in before anything more could be said, "He's just had more wrackspurts about him than usual, but I'm not particularly worried about these. It's for a good reason, I think, that they're around. Honestly, I'd say it's one of his better days today."

If anything, Granger looked even more suspicious, and even opened her mouth to counter the claim but then was promptly beaten by Neville, only that he didn't have any intention or snubbing his girlfriend. "If you say so Luna," he told her, matching her smile. Then he glanced at Harry again, a strange look in his eyes, which he recognized it from all those times VolDeMort had sent him the exact same. It was as if he was checking him over for any signs of distress, and to make sure Neville was appeased, Harry sent him a quick smile and a nod of the head.

"Glad you're feeling well, mate," Weasley said with a grin. They all took a seat at the table without question, and Harry really didn't have the strength to protest. He was just glad that the impromptu interrogation session was over a lot faster. Thank the heavens for Luna's sixth sense. Quickly enough, a whispery flow of conversation took place, and Harry fell into the role of letting it smooth past his ears. He would read, but that would be rude… and all he really wanted to do right now was let time fly by faster.

Because of this, Harry settled for thinking of the events that happened last night. His luck had really paid off then, and the team had managed to find three Gorgon's Pendants from training. A perfect number; one for each of them! As the special effect, if imbued with their weapons the chance of their normal and special attacks stunning the enemy was 5%, increasing by an amazing 10% for every other Gorgon's Pendant in their party. Obviously, this 25% chance of stun would help in any situation, PvP or boss hunting or just plain training.

It had been a good night, and they all had logged off very satisfied. No matter how nerdy it sounded, Harry simply could not stop being happy. The worth of a single Gorgon pendant was close to one billion, give or take three million depending on the market, and though Harry very well knew he was lucky, getting a Gorgon's pendant for a normal player was like getting a complete set of godly dragon armor from one drop! Even for him, the odds were ridiculously low. Rare to see in the market and even rarer as a drop, three in one night was definitely something to celebrate.

"—And so this guy just goes rushing in to this crazy huge mob of serpent queens, his wizard a few ways behind him with their priest spamming buffs and heals like crazy, and he pulls off this super cool spin attack that does massive damage while blowing them all away! Then the wizard shoots off spells at lightning fast speed, finishing off the ones that took the most damage. The warrior charges in again, and—"

Harry blinked. What were they talking about? It sounded like CoS, which a lot of people at the school surprisingly played. The four around him actually made up a team, and he had heard them talk about the game before, but why did this sound so eerily familiar? Was it because he and his team had been hunting down serpent queens last night?

"—the whole entire mob goes down! It was crazy! Bloody fantastic! I was so happy that Fred and George were hunting there and I just happened to look over at their screen. But get this, that's not even the most ridiculous part of it! In their loot of say, two dozen serpent queens was THREE BLOODY—" Weasley was promptly cut off by the shushing of the annoyed librarian, and he had the decency to blush and adopt a sheepishly cowed look.

"Three what?" Neville asked curiously after the stern woman had turned away.

Weasley swallowed, almost as if to say it would take the most courage of all. "Three. Gorgon's. Pendants," he slowly whispered.

Harry, in his abrupt surprise, dropped the large textbook he had been idly flipping through, raised above the table as his elbows supported it. Throughout the library, the crash had made a loud echo and attracted the attention of the librarian once again. She stomped over furiously to them, planning to kick them all out until she saw who had dropped the book.

Quickly, Harry put on a suitably embarrassed look and whispered apologies to the angry woman. He insisted it was by accident and his hand had slipped. By the end of it, her anger had abated and now she looked disappointed. As long as he didn't make the same mistake, she had told him, she would let it go.

He easily retook his seat at the table, and his friends were looking at him with something akin to mortified curiosity. "…Harry?" Granger called questioningly.

He smiled, though it probably looked forced. "It's… nothing. What were you saying, Ron?"

The surprise was evident on Weasley's face. Harry never really participated in their conversations about CoS, or anything other than schoolwork, really, so the thought that he was interested now seemed alien.

Caught off guard, Ron could do nothing but tell the run down version of his tale. "Uh, I was just watching my older brothers play some CoS when I saw this amazing three player team take down a mob of serpent queens. They got three Gorgon's Pendants from it, crazy luck I tell you, and now Fred and George are practically worshipping the ground they walk on…" he trailed off, and like he was hit by a profound realization, Weasley's eyes grew big. "Oh, uh, CoS as in Chamber of Secrets Online and by serpent queens, well, they're a type of—"

Harry would've been offended if he didn't find the situation so bizarre. "I know," he quickly cut in. "Could you tell me the player names?"

Everyone blinked in surprise. Harry just hadn't seemed the type to play games, but apparently they were wrong. "Oh… eh, shoot… Well mate, I'm not sure if I can name all of them… oh! I remember one. The wizard was that famous PvPer, VolDeMort! He was the guy that Fred and George whispered to try and buy a pair of pendants from, but they got shot down real fast. Apparently the warrior was the guy in charge of selling the drops on the team, and he said no. Huh, I guess they probably wouldn't have sold 'em anyways… What with having VolDeMort in their team. They probably PvP a lot."

Nods came from all around the table, and Harry inwardly sighed. This was an insane coincidence. He remembered them too, the two players that looked almost alike. They had begged to buy the Gorgon Pendants, and Harry hadn't found it in him to really be mad at them. Considering that a lot of people had asked to buy their drops before, he hadn't thought much of it. Weasley had spoken of his brothers often though, as they were one of the few high level duo teams. He couldn't recall their player names, but Harry was sure he wouldn't have been so caught off guard if he had paid a bit more attention.

"You're really lucky though," Neville commented, "to actually see the team VolDeMort plays with!"

"Yeah," Granger nodded, enthusiastic, "He's really famous! There's even a fan thread for him on the official forums! His highest 1v1 win streak is at 70 right now, and he hasn't lost it yet!"

Luna smiled along with them. "You praised the warrior a lot, and the priest seemed like a good player with how he kept them all alive versus a large mob. Was it as amazing as everyone says? The smallest of the top ten teams…"

Weasley grinned. "Yep! They were amazing! VolDeMort's spells were so in-sync with the warrior's, it was like they practiced the same moves all over and over! They were so strong! Hell, I wish we could be as good as that…"

"Then we'll keep practicing!" Granger chimed in with a determined voice, "Did you recognize any of the spells they used? Maybe we can try and use it as a guide for our own combos…"

By this time, Harry was completely zoned out again. It truly was a scary coincidence, and he tried to keep his breathing even as his heart rate returned to normal. _Okay, no more weird conversations. Science class will be better since Severus is in a good mood… _

And indeed it was. Upon entering class, Severus had given a small nod in Harry's direction, which was discreetly returned. They had had a good run. The insults would be kept to a minimum today, even though Harry really didn't mind them.

"Afternoon class," Professor Snape sneered as everyone sat rigidly. "I have the _pleasure_ to inform you that there is a field trip scheduled for sometime next month—"no one dared cheer, for who knew what the catch was?"—and all who have a C grade or lower in their science class will remain here with me, doing remedial work." Several students visibly swallowed down their groans, and Severus smirked nastily. "The C grade," he continued, "will be checked for the day before the field trip, so _do _try to keep them up, won't you? I also expect that there will be no complaints if you receive the message that you will be unable to go, as this is serving as your one-month-in-advance warning." A stretch of silence ensued as the chemistry professor made sure his words sank in.

"Now, after that pleasant message, let us begin with today's lesson…"

The soft cushion of the chair that Harry smoothly sat down on was comforting after the long day. Dinner's savory scent wafted up to his nose and remained there, taunting him while his eyes feasted upon the generous amounts of food. He was hungry, but his hunger would never compare to his father's or godfather's. The boisterous conversations of James and Sirius made ample sound in the room, and Remus sent him a kind smile as he watched him stare at the meal, trying to eat it with his eyes. Lily watched them all, quite pleased with herself.

"Fantastic Lils!" Sirius cheered as he happily stuffed his mouth with an assortment of meat and vegetables.

James hummed in agreement. "Your cooking is always amazing, dear!"

"Of course it is," Lily teasingly scolded her husband. "Now, isn't there something Harry would like to tell us all?"

Said son currently was chewing on a very juicy piece of chicken, but quickly swallowed it down at his mother's prompt. Everyone looked at him curiously, wondering what it was. "Ah, yes. My finals…" Harry started, "went well. I've gotten an average score of 98%."

Cheers went up around the table, and James slapped his son's back as he beamed proudly. "That's my boy!" he exclaimed. Harry smiled back at him.

"Congratulations!" Remus said from across the table. "I'll be sure to bring back a suitable dessert tomorrow; how does that sound, Harry?" A great lover of Remus' sweets, Harry nodded and said his thanks.

Dinner went by with everyone in good cheer, and before he was able to retreat back to his room, Lily pulled him aside. "I'm very proud of you, dear," she told him earnestly, looking into his eyes to make sure he understood. "And I'm also very proud that you did this all by yourself, but if you ever need help, please come to me. I'll help in any way I can, Harry. You come first, not work."

Touched, Harry swallowed. "I know, mum. I'm doing fine."

Her eyes danced across his face searchingly. "Even if you're doing fine… sometimes, dear, I feel like we're not as close anymore. So even if you don't really need anything, please come talk to me. Tell me anything, anything at all, right down to the little things. It doesn't have to be about school. Sometimes I feel like you're too focused, and that you don't have any fun at all. You're almost all grown up now, I understand, but it isn't wrong to enjoy life when you're young."

"I… I am enjoying it," he murmured, "and school is important to me—"_to you_"—so it's fine. I have friends, and Sirius wouldn't stand for a godson who doesn't know how to have fun. You don't have to worry, mum. Everything's fine."

Lily pursed her lips. "Okay, Harry. But... when you can, it doesn't matter if it's a month or a year from now, just… when you can, I want you to be able to come to me and truthfully say that everything's _great_. It's alright if it's fine, but… I want to hear you say it. Truthfully. I want to know if my son is doing better than fine, because you deserve that Harry. For now, don't worry about it. You'll know when you can… and I'll be waiting for when you do, okay?"

He blinked in surprise, not quite understanding what she was trying to say. Nevertheless, his love for his mother could let him do nothing other than nod and agree. "Alright," Harry said. Lily gave him one last indiscernible look before sending him off.

In his room now, Harry grabbed a random textbook from his stack and placed it in front of him. _History, alright_. Without even bothering to check the table of contents, he flipped through the pages until he found where he had last been. Though try as he might to focus on the first word of the paragraph, it simply didn't register in his brain. He squinted, as if he just wasn't seeing it. Five minutes in and still barely plowing through the first page, Harry gave up and slammed the book shut, possibly with more force than needed. Another textbook was in front of him immediately, and he loathed finding that the exact same thing happened again.

And again.

And again.

_And again_.

An irrational rage whirled up inside of him, and before Harry knew it he was standing, having knocked down his chair in the process, with his fingers still clenched on the hard cover of the book. It had been slammed shut, but the sound of impact it had made still was not enough to satisfy him. He gritted his teeth together, mind still not registering why he was so _angry_. Hadn't he just been fine a half an hour ago?

"Fuck!" he cursed aloud, only realizing how loud it had actually been a few seconds later. Harry spun around, ignoring the fallen chair in favor of watching the door to his room. Had anyone heard that? Would someone come to check on him? After a minute ticked by, he finally decided that no, no one was going to be knocking on his door any time soon. A long, frustrated sigh past his lips and he picked up the chair from the ground to set it back up.

Taking his seat again, Harry dropped his elbows onto the desk and burrowed his head in his hands, running one through his hair as he tried to past his rage and think. What had his mother meant? Why had she asked that of him? What made her think that he wasn't _living_? Was it because his father had been a party animal when he was still in high school? Just because they weren't the same, did she immediately assume something was wrong with him? After all this time?

No, Harry admitted after he had calmed, his mother was smarter than that. She was more cunning, and would not judge him based on his father. She had given birth to him, for Christ's sake! Of course she wouldn't take things at face value. Of course she wouldn't assume the first thing that popped up into her head. Harry felt ashamed for even letting that thought pass through his head. His mother…

Perhaps he hadn't given her enough credit through the years. Did she know that he was pretending? No, she certainly would've said something. Did she… did she know how much of his work was for her? Had she guessed it, thought of it, mulled it around in her head? Was she disappointed in him, in his choice of how to live out his younger years? Harry, always focused on school, always the golden child; the intelligent, bright boy that called himself her son…

Was he wrong?

He groaned, leaning back into his chair and throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. Unlike his father, when Harry found something to worry about, he worried. He tossed back ideas between the possible and improbable, all the while worrying himself into a tizzy. There was no way he would be able to work like this, and he frowned darkly at the once-neat pile of books. They were stacked oddly, one going this way and one going another, the corners of the cover not lined up in the slightest.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to make everything go away._ Stop thinking…_

He had never really thought of his lack of social skills before. They had never been a hindrance, and at least he knew how to greet someone politely and hold light conversation. Watching his parents interact with other adults taught him that, but it was really all he could do. Making friends wasn't his thing… but oh how he needed one right now! Never had Harry found the urge to talk to someone as insistent as it was at this very moment.

Biting his lip, he turned to look over at his right side. There was another desk sitting so very innocently along the wall, a computer taking up the majority of its space. The screen was black, and the power button did not blink with light. It was off. Should he…?

Harry didn't need the game right now. He didn't even really want it, not in the mood to play at all. Instead, he needed a person… someone who would understand.

Making his decision quickly, he scurried over to the PC and sat before it, trembling hand pressing the power button to turn it on. When it finished loading, he didn't even bother to click on the game. Instead, he went straight to the communication program and clicked on the list of online friends. It was a small list, only consisting of two people; two very, very close people to him. Only one was on.

Without any further hesitation, Harry double clicked on the name, waiting for the other person to accept his chat request. Usually they linked it up to CoS, allowing it so they could see each other whenever they were online and have it automatically accept chat when given the party request. That he did it manually was something his team mate would note immediately. Harry waited as the seconds passed by, eyes caught by the 'calling' animation.

Finally, it accepted.

"Harry?" The handsome face of VolDeMort's player appeared on the screen before him, and he could not stop a sigh of relief. "Something wrong?"

He bit his lip, trying to postpone what would inevitably come. "Where's Severus?" he asked instead.

Tom waved his hand in a sort of dismissive way. "He was on earlier, but something came up. Did you need him? He'll probably get on later."

"Err… no that's fine," Harry mumbled. "Uh… I…"

Tom waited.

"Ugh… I mean…" Harry paused, thinking. "Can I just talk to you?"

The man before him cocked his head slightly to the side. "Talk away," he finally said.

* * *

**So, I was very indecisive about this chapter. Ten hours ago, I planned to write another light-hearted chapter between this one and Quest II, but my brain wasn't working with me. **

**Is it too soon for some drama?**

**Well, at least in this chapter something else is confirmed: Lily is pretty much innocent. She isn't a big baddy like some stories display her to be (I'm not pointing any fingers, and I've read and possibly enjoyed a couple of them), but she isn't ignoring her only son either like an ignorant, inexperienced parent. Poor Harry ;_; he loves his mother very much, but just doesn't know what to do! Even after getting reassurance from his mum, Harry still thinks she's disappointed in him somehow.**

**Well, this is more like a quick-plot chapter, and it's going to be resolved pretty soon, but we're finally able to see that all is **_not_** well.**

**I very much appreciated your reviews! I try to reply to all of them, and am unable to if you review anonymously! Please tell me if something was confusing in this chapter also ^_^**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	5. Quest IV: Drinks For Two

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

**_*EDIT* :_ **If this re-post of chapter 5 gives you a new alert, sorry for getting your hopes up, but I actually made a mistake in this story. In the 2nd paragraph in italics where Tom mentions the school district, it is supposed to say "Prince" instead of "Severus". This error is now fixed, and I can't believe I actually did that! Could've sworn I read through this chapter without seeing anything wrong...

* * *

**T**he chill of the night air nipped at his face, and though Harry well knew that it was one of the warmer months, that did not stop the gust of wind that blew against him, as if to shove him to the side. He hugged the light jacket around him tighter and stuffed his hands into the pockets. Was he doing something stupid?

"_Prince mentioned in passing that the school he works at is in XXX district. You attend there too, so I'm assuming you live close by?"_

"_Err, yeah…" Harry stuttered, completely tossed off guard._

"_Then do you know where XXX diner is?" Tom shot off again._

"_Yeah. That's a few minutes away from my house."_

"_Then how about I meet you there in an hour?" he offered nonchalantly._

"…_Come again?" Harry blinked._

"…" _Tom paused, giving him a considering look. "You need someone to talk to, don't you?" he asked rhetorically in a softer tone. Harry answered anyways with a small nod._

"_Then I'll meet you there in an hour."_

And that had been that. VolDeMort seemed to know that Harry couldn't come immediately, so now here he was. Emotions whirling around inside of him, head ducked, making his way over to the diner that the other man had proposed while dauntingly aware that he had just snuck out for the first time in his life. He had never thought that he would be doing this, and especially caught off guard that he was doing this with _VolDeMort_, but that was just how it was.

The lights on the street were bright. At least he didn't have to worry about walking in absolute darkness. It was quite late, after all.

He was approaching the diner quickly, and wasn't sure whether he wanted to slow his pace or pick it up, deciding instead to maintain a moderate briskness. If VolDeMort was there early, he wouldn't want to keep the man waiting. Indecisiveness broiled inside of him. Ditching wasn't an option, and neither was using the waitress as a messenger to make his escape. In fact, escape wasn't an option either. Harry had wanted to talk, so VolDeMort gave him what he wanted. His hand paused right at the door handle, but he steeled himself and pushed his way in.

A waitress walked around to meet him, but he shook his head and pointed at the tables. She seemed to understand, and so nodded and smiled and turned back the way she came. He didn't search for long; all it took was a flicker of his eyes to look around the room. It was mostly empty; the hour was late, but still people lingered with their meals and companions.

Harry saw him then, sitting at a table in the corner of the room, right next to a window. On the table was no meal, simply two mugs at both sides. He strode over, not bothering to introduce himself yet as he slid into his seat. The mug in front of him had steam coming up from it enchantingly, and there was no hesitation in his movements as he picked it up and took a sip. Hot liquid scorched his throat lightly as it trailed its way down and he licked his lips. Hot chocolate, his favorite... and there were some marshmallows melting in it too. VolDeMort had remembered. His eyes glanced at the man, who had moved to pick up his own cup.

As he raised it to his lips, Harry decided to speak. "Black?" he queried as the man finished his sip.

"Yes."

"No sugar or creamer?"

"No."

"No milk either?"

"No."

Harry nodded, having expected all of those answers prior to asking them. He looked down at his own mug and then took a deep drink. They sat like that for awhile, occasionally glancing out at the streets through the window. Nothing interesting happened, but Harry slowly let himself relax. There had been no awkward encounter, it had been narrowly avoided. The familiarity between the two seemed to come back to life, and he felt himself smile unconsciously at the comfort for the first time in awhile. It had been a long time, Harry mused, since he had felt at ease like this.

"Tom Riddle," the man across from him said calmly, and at first Harry hadn't registered that something had been said.

Once it had settled into his brain, Harry took a deep breath and nodded. Before him, Tom Riddle was smiling indulgently, and he wondered how long that had been. Admittedly, Harry had not bothered to look at his face after the first few minutes, and now that he did, he found he could not stop studying him. They had only seen each other through a computer screen before; with VolDeMort sitting in front of him now in real life… it was different.

"Harry Potter," he finally replied.

"Harry," Tom murmured as if to test the name on his tongue, "Yes… it's quite fitting."

"I didn't… didn't bother you or anything, right?" Harry nervously asked.

"I was the one who called you out, imp," was the amused answer. "If it was a bother, I wouldn't have come, nor asked you out in the first place."

Accepting it as it was, the younger nodded. "Tom Riddle…"

The mentioned inclined his head. "My mother named me after my father."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Tom turned to look out the window, "He left her, a few months before I was born."

Harry licked his lips. "Your mother… is she kind to you?"

"She died during childbirth," he murmured apathetically.

"Ah," finished Harry lamely. He looked down at his cup, which was empty by now. Slowly, his grip on the mug's handle tightened. "Have you ever lived before?"

Tom looked at him indiscernibly, and the feeling it caused was reminiscent of what had happened earlier in the evening. "No," he finally answered, "But neither have I died. I have survived, and now because of that brief period of surviving, I am alive."

"Do you think… many people have lived?"

Tom paused again before he answered. "It depends how you define living, Harry."

His name added into the conversation, Harry relaxed again. He had been slowly winding himself up again, and so let himself drop the metaphorical crank. "She told me that _fine_ wasn't _alright_," he confessed, and Tom did not question who 'she' was.

"Alone, they are the same. Together, and added in with a human understanding, they are very different."

"Was I wrong?" Harry desperately asked, voice cracking slightly. His companion did not answer for a long time, and when he was about to say more, a pale hand reached out to gently pry his mug away.

"Tell me what happened. No more stalling, imp," the elder coaxed, gentle but firm.

And Harry told him. He talked and talked and virtually told him the outline of his life story, pausing only to breathe. He did not look at Tom for reassurance, nor did he look at him seeking praise for any of his mentioned-in-passing achievements. He did not need praise from the man, not like how he yearned it from his mother, and he did not need sympathy or pity. VolDeMort… no, Tom Riddle was not his parent nor his guardian nor some stranger. Sitting here in the diner, they were equals. They were different, but one was not set above the other.

By the end of it, he felt frazzled. Like an old shirt, Harry felt like he was frayed on the edges, needing a pair of scissors to trim away thread that had become undone from the machine-made stitch lines. He rested his suddenly too-heavy head on his arm, which lied on top of the table. Careful fingers nimbly twirled and played with his unruly hair, and Harry did not find the movement distasteful. He was tired, he admitted to himself. So very, very tired…

"It doesn't matter," Tom finally said, "Whether you're wrong or you're right. You made your choice, and it wouldn't be _you_ if you didn't follow through with it. You've gotten so far, done all of this for her; do you really think she'd scorn you?"

Harry averted his eyes. "She's my mother," he softly murmured, "but sometimes, I wonder if I'm her son. At first, I was so sure… but then we drifted apart. I admired her, believed I knew her, believed I was doing this all for _her_, but it was me… it was my entire fault that we're not as close as we're supposed to be."

"Is that wrong?"

"Of course it is!" Harry shouted, lifting his head. The remaining people in the diner turned to look at them, and Harry returned his head back to the place on his arm. He took in a shaky breath. "Of course… it is… I mean, I'm her only son. Isn't it sad that we've drifted?"

"Then talk to her," Tom pointed out, as if it were obvious.

He opened his mouth to say that he couldn't, but no sound came out, because he realized that _he could_. He could, and he should, and there was no reason why he _shouldn't_… "I'm scared," he lamely admitted to his companion.

Riddle snorted. "She's your mother. Don't women have some type of sixth sense for their child? The worst that would happen would be you getting spanked for your childhood choice."

"You make it sound so… easy," Harry complained.

"I'm looking at it from a third person perspective," he replied, "which is why I'm able to clearly see that nothing is really _wrong _other than the fact that nothing is quite _right _either."

"…So because it's not right, it's wrong?"

"No," Tom answered calmly, continuing to thread his fingers through Harry's hair, "Nothing is wrong, and your plan made from your childhood innocence is working fine. You might've not wanted this to happen, but she isn't stressed, is she? She's just worried. About _you_, which you clearly never put into your calculations. I would be too, to be honest, what with the hopeless expression you had on your face when you entered."

"Hey! I did not look—"

"Imp, listen up," he cut in abruptly. "I'm not a people person, but you looked like a kicked puppy. At home, _and here_. Now, I'm going to tell you very, very bluntly that you're being an idiot, a coward, and an angsty teenager all at the same time. You are going to go home, look your mother in the eye, and apologize for being all of the above. Then, you are going to make a tiramisu and deliver it to _this address_—"since when did he slip that piece of paper over here?"—sometime afterwards."

Harry blinked, not feeling quite as terrible as he had been a few moments ago. He then shuddered at the angsty teenager comment. Well, it was true that he never really went through that phase… "Tiramisu? What for?"

Tom raised a brow. "I can't cook or bake to save my life; remember the flour incident? And you owe me. You were eating it a few days ago, and damn it, you didn't say it but I knew you made it." Translation: I'm craving tiramisu and it's your entire fault. Go make me some because I refuse to walk into a bakery and buy it.

He shrugged. "You didn't ask for any, and I didn't know that you lived so close in the area." Picking up the small piece of paper, Harry took a look at the address. In fact, this was only a few blocks away from the diner… what a strange coincidence.

"I expect it to be more bitter than sweet," Tom went on, "and it better be more than a slice."

Harry's lips twitched upward into a smile. "Okay," he said, and the smile grew. His companion nodded decisively, and they both stood at the same time. They both walked out the door together, and when he turned in the direction of his home, which was also opposite of Tom's, the latter followed. It was all in a very matter-of-fact way, and he did not say anything of it as he supposed it didn't really matter.

Tom Riddle, Harry mused, was most likely not going to disappear from his life anytime soon.

They only walked past two people from the diner to his home. The wind blew insistently, though Harry ignored it as he took the time to study his friend. The man was taller than him by a head; he reached just up to a bit past his chin. Their walk was in silence, but Harry assumed that Tom knew he was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to observe Harry, too, and the fact did not disturb him all too much.

It was like they were familiar strangers, knowing many bits and pieces of each other but not really knowing anything about the other's life. Well, Tom knew _now_, but…

They reached their destination soon enough and both bid each other farewell. Harry hesitated to open the door, instead turning to look at the retreating figure of Tom Riddle. "Tom?" he called out, and was pleased when the man stopped. He did not turn around, but the lack of movement was enough to show that he had heard him.

"Did you only call me out because you wanted some tiramisu?" he asked, and Tom raised his hand in the sort of elegant, dismissive wave that he always did. _No, _it said, _but that doesn't mean you don't have to make it. _Once he was out of sight, Harry smiled, unlocking his door. Making Tom some tiramisu would be fun, and Harry found he looked forward to the delivery.

He stepped in quietly, smile still on his face, and was surprised when he found the sitting room lights still on. Had he forgot to turn it off?

"Welcome back," a soft, feminine voice said. _Oh shit._

Completely thrown off guard, Harry whipped around and saw the beautiful figure of Lily Potter sitting on their couch. She was looking at him amusedly, a knowing glint in her eyes that frankly scared the hell out of him. "Err… I'm home…?" he replied sheepishly, and tried not to look at her in the eyes. _Sixth sense for their child, indeed._

"Did you have a good time?" his mother asked conversationally, and another look from her had him scrambling to sit in the couch opposite of her. He wasn't getting out of this one.

"Uh…" Harry really didn't know what to do or say in this situation. His eyes flickered up to her again, taking in her outlook. She didn't _look _angry, and having lived his whole life with the marauders as his family certainly meant he knew what it looked like. He bit his lip.

"Truthfully," she reminded him softly.

He gulped. "Well…"

Lily smiled. "You seemed like you had a good time. You had a smile on your face."

He could not deny that… and he had enjoyed it. With VolDeMort. Who was Tom Riddle. "Yes," he agreed carefully, "I suppose I had a… good time."

She nodded neutrally. "That's good."

Because his mother simply sat there, Harry knew he was not dismissed. The silence, however, was deafening in his ears. He didn't know what she wanted, what she was aiming for, or if she was going to scold him at all. He tried not to fidget, keeping his hands spread in his lap.

_Look her in the eyes, and apologize…_

Harry stiffened, recalling his companion's words. Well, he supposed this time was as good as any. Cautiously, he lifted his head slightly and let their eyes meet. They were as green as they would ever be, and he took after her in that respect. Her eyes held no malice, but they did not show much of anything anyways, so he did not assume anything more. His father had told him once that Lily knew how to keep a poker face, and indeed she did.

"Mum, I'm sorry for being an idiot, a coward, and an angsty teenager all at the same time," he dutifully repeated.

The apology sat there between them, echoing in the silence even after the words had faded. Harry felt awkward and childish, but he did not squirm under her gaze. He noted idly that the curtains behind her were open wide, and the moonlight was as bright as it could be before a full moon. It rested peacefully on their lawn, and he knew that the grass would be wet with dew tomorrow morning.

Finally, Lily sighed. "I don't know where you went," she began, "And I don't know why, though I can certainly guess. Whether or not I'm right, however, remains to be seen."

Harry nodded, accepting the statement.

"You had a good time, and I will respect that. I'm not going to ruin your night, Harry," she said, and smiled at the surprised look her son displayed. "That doesn't mean I'm not going to say anything about it though."

He slowly nodded again, believing her.

"It's… it's been awhile," Lily murmured, "Since I've seen you smile like that, I mean. It wasn't a happy smile, but a content one. As my son, I want you to be happy, but sometimes contentment is closer to true happiness than simple joy can ever be."

"I can respect that," she continued. "You don't seem harmed… or drunk, so there won't be anything to tell James or Remus. You also don't look like you've been partying the whole time or have been snogging the night away with a girl, so there isn't anything to tell Sirius. Thankfully, that also means I don't have to give you the obligatory talk as well."

She laughed as she saw Harry pale.

"Though, what I do know is that you were out for more than two hours," Lily declared, "As I'm quite sure you left around 10. Am I right?"

_A mother's sixth sense…_ Harry dumbly nodded.

Her eyes softened. "My dear boy," she whispered, "You're my only son, Harry. I take pride in being able to say that. I take pride in your achievements, not because of what they are, but because _you _are the one who did them. I love you, dear, so very, very much… I don't think I can emphasize that any more. Lately, I've felt that I don't truly know you anymore. As a child, you were so light and carefree… I wanted you to always be like that. Somewhere along the lines, you changed, and I accepted it as growing up. It didn't truly matter anyways, because you were still my son…"

"_Always my son_," Lily emphasized. "No matter what, that is who you'll forever be to me. And I know that I will worry, and laugh, and cheer, and cry, and love because of that."

"I understand," Harry whispered.

His mother nodded. "What I want you to promise me is that you won't stay out after midnight again without telling me and having a valid reason. I'd also like you not to sneak around; if you need to go somewhere, tell me! I'll even drop you off if you want. I know I can't lord over every single one of your actions, as James would've probably done if you were a girl," Harry blanched at the thought of being female, "but I'd also like to be sure that you're safe."

"I know that you're smart," she continued, "And you can probably tell exactly who to not get around with. I'll trust you with that. You're almost all grown up, and soon you'll be making your way into the world, with or without my help… which leads me to the second thing I want you to promise me."

Knowing she had her son's full attention, Lily began once more, "I want you to promise me that you'll talk to me. Tell me something about yourself that I probably don't know, at least once a week. We're no longer as close we used to be, and I'm not exactly sure how you feel, but I want us to be close again before you leave us." She smiled sadly, and Harry's heart ached.

"I want to as well," he said, "I want us to be close again."

His mother sighed. "That's a relief," she murmured. "Will you promise me these things?"

He nodded immediately. "I promise."

She smiled back at him, brighter and happier than her last. "Thank you. And… I also accept your apology. I don't know who told you what you said, but whoever he or she is, they're truly brilliant."

Harry laughed. "He certainly is," he unconsciously murmured. Lily caught it, but did not comment.

"Hey, mum?" Harry asked after a bit. At her curious glance, he continued. "You're amazing, you know."

The smile she gave him outshone all the rest. "I know."

"I love you."

"I know," she replied again.

"I like to bake in my free time, and Remus told me a couple years ago that my pastries are amazingly melt-in-your-mouth spectacular."

"I kn—"she cut herself off, blinking rapidly. "You do? Really?"

He laughed as she pestered him for more information.

* * *

**Hope this chapter was satisfactory! No game time, but Harry patches things up with his mum and meets Tom!**

**I really do hope this chapter was alright and not too OOC. When it comes to Harry, Tom seems very indulgent xD. Also, to all those parents out there, I'd like to know your opinions on the talk Lily had with Harry. I'm not a parent (definitely too young to be one anyways), but I do have a mother who loves me very much ^_^. Was she too soft on him? Was it good that she was understanding? Lily, to me, seems like a very rational character. She is smart, life smart, and unlike Hermione in this way.**

**Harry is also seventeen years old, if I didn't put it somewhere in the last chapters.**

**Anyways, reviews and/or PMs are loved! Please help me by giving me some comments on the pace, the characters, and the (seemingly not there) plot! I hope all those gamers out there are pleased, and if you aren't a gamer, I hope you're understanding everything! Until next time.**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	6. Quest V: Cutscene 1X

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

_**H**is body twisted in mid-air, coming to whirl around on his opponent. Her eyes reflected shock, but her face showed nothing but calm. They were good, very good. The edge of his sword swiped down upon her, but she quickly raised a chrome staff to block it. The two met with a harsh clang, and he leapt back just as an arrow pierced the ground before him._

_The other team was getting edgy now that their warrior had been defeated._

Sharp green eyes flickered up to see an archer standing behind the mage, bow posed to attack once more. Harry steeled himself, adjusting his grip on his sword, and went in again. He was intercepted by another blade; a rogue appearing before him seemingly out of thin air. The rounded sharp edge of the blocking weapon glinted in the light, and a drop of sweat fell upon it.

This team was not to be taken lightly, but neither were they.

A bolt of dark magic swirled in behind him, and Harry tilted his head to the side, letting it pass easily. It hit the rogue, surprising him and allowing his opponent to jump over his back using him as a boost. Harry landed a distance away from the mage once more and streams of arrows tried to pierce his armor. The berserker dodged them all.

"Please don't underestimate us," he said sweetly, taunting them as he whirled his blade to block several arrows launched at his face.

He distantly heard a grunt of pain behind him, and knew his partner had met his mark. A flash of black tried to stream past him, and with his fast reflexes, Harry lunged forward, stabbing his sword into the ribs of the rogue. A moan of pain was emitted from his victim, and he just barely managed to leap back, blood dribbling down his side. It wasn't long before a dark shadow appeared under him, leaping up to swallow their prey.

Ensnared in a cage of dark magic, the rogue could not escape.

In vain, the mage and archer shot spells and arrows at both of them, empowered with magic and aura. They were desperately trying to get a grip on their main advantage, but it was slipping through their fingers.

A blur of black passed by Harry, and this time he let it. Tendrils of darkness groped for their prey, and quick shots of magic shot out from between them. The archer dodged one, two, three shots before he succumbed to the inky blackness.

Meanwhile, the rogue had finally been able to escape from his prison, and darted forward towards Harry's partner. Take down the cause of the darkness first, he most likely thought.

Wrong move.

With speed that was unlike a warrior but completely that of a berserker, he lunged at the back of the rogue. His sword pierced not the ribs this time, but the spine. Distinctly, the rogue screeched in pain as he was enveloped in a white, flashy light. _Just like his warrior team mate, _Harry knew.

While this was happening, the remaining mage and archer were trying to fend off a seemingly sentient darkness with shields and offense, but their magic passed straight through. They could not hit it, and that would be their downfall.

It struck first, morphing then into a head and then shoulders, slowly forming a body. A cloak gently but dramatically floated down from the remaining darkness, covering its master's form. One single pale hand rose, and the massive amount of arrows and magic that had been pelting him were deflected. The hand then flicked to the side and a chain pulsing brilliant purple shot out for Harry.

_Aura Bind. An active skill that entangles another player and allows the caster to share health and mana with him/her. Also allows the caster to pull the player to his/her location. Required to be maxed to learn Soul Bind._

He let it wrap about him, warm and comforting, so unlike the darkness when it was your enemy. This time, though, it was his companion. His _closest_ companion…

The warrior disappeared from his spot, and reappeared as if by teleportation in front of his partner, large sword pointed to the ground and in front of its crouching master. _Shield_, Harry thought, and the next wave of magic and arrows were deflected just as easily as they had been by the darkness.

Using this time, the cloaked man ghosted forward and struck like a snake. He seemingly passed the woman, who flinched in preparation. A pale hand reached back just as he was about to dash past, a glow forming quickly and quietly.

Dark magic burned her alive, leaving her with wide eyes and flashing white light. It darted forward past its master and leapt towards the remaining archer, who quickly dodged and rolled to the side.

Another mistake. Perhaps Harry _had _overestimated them.

Gleaming with a deadly sheen, a sword's blade struck the ground right by the still-recovering archer, leaving marks and cracks on the dried dirt. The force was enormous, tossing said defenseless man into the air. He yelped, but held onto his wits and strung his bow with incredible speed, shooting five arrows before he fell back to the ground.

The mage he had aimed it at dodged them all. Harry let the two that shot at him bounce innocently off of his armor.

"Game over," his partner said, and indeed it was.

Falling hopelessly to the ground, the archer was caught in Harry's swirling sword, which swiped mercilessly at his chest through his armor before he could land. Quick-speed purple orbs hit him at the exact same time, and the same flash of light that had consumed his team mates now took him too.

There was silence for nearly five seconds.

"You're not half bad," the cloaked man mused, red eyes staring straight at Harry. They pierced him farther than any sword or magic could.

"Back at you," he replied breathlessly.

Whispers broke out among the spectators, pointing and exclaiming shamelessly. _That _team had been defeated… in a four versus two no less!

Out from the crowded group, another team emerged, a frown painted on all of their faces. They swaggered towards Harry and his partner confidently, arrogantly so, and within the pit of his stomach, anticipation bloomed. He had gotten a taste for this art—this wonderful, adrenaline rushing art—and how he wished for just one more taste… _even a lick would do_…

"Do you think you could just do whatever you like?" the man at the head barked, his eyebrows bunched together in a disapproving manner.

Feeling braver than he had ever been before, Harry stepped forward. "Not at all," he said, "they challenged us—"_yes, not he and I but_ us,"—and we accepted. Is there anything wrong with that?"

A woman stepped out from behind the ring leader. "Know your place, kid. We were just talking to _him_," and she waved over to his partner, because that was what they were now, "Please don't get involved," she smiled sweetly at the end, making a dismissing motion.

"How arrogant," the motioned-to player purred. "Perhaps I shall make you lose that despicable trait?"

"We," Harry corrected.

"…We," he agreed.

"Don't you know not to talk to a lady like that?" Another man stepped out from behind her, and soon enough six players stood before them, opposing and frowning and so unappealing in their manner, Harry wanted to wretch.

"Enough talk, let us see you put your mouth where your posture is," declared the warlock, and the swords master's weapon was in his hand in a second, drawn and ready to start battle.

"Gladly," the ring leader snarled.

The other team leapt on them like a pack of wolves, teeth barred and aimed at their prey. Only, this specific pack had their minds mixed up. For who was the prey and who was the predator?

Weapon swinging, Harry danced about his partner. His speed was incredible, moving as nothing but a blur in everyone else's eyes. The precision of his moves were perfect, each slice sending a wave of compressed air flinging at the oncoming enemy. As they had always said, "the best offense is the best defense."

This was proven true as the man, the darkness that Harry secretly called his own, simply stood very still, not moving as he let the sword shield do its job. Once the theatrics were over, he would move, and _his partner_, this person who was temporarily under his protection as he was to the other's, would match his movements with his own. They would win, for nothing else would be acceptable.

What were the previous battles, if not the wins and losses that flavored the next victory?

Harry smiled. "So, you're VolDeMort?" the swords master asked as he effortlessly dodged several incoming spells. He knew the answer, of course; this certainly wasn't the first time they had met… but it was the first time he had really looked at the man, felt a type of kinship he hadn't before.

"Hn. Scarred, was it?" the warlock queried right back.

They both knew their answers, but a game wasn't fun if all the players knew the truth. So, the warlock and swords master would play up on their ignorance, dance about the solution all the while destroying their opponents.

"No," he whispered, and brilliant silver flashes marked and claimed the sky. Gravity did not restrict him, the air did not reject him. Inky blackness curled about him almost lovingly, swirling around his blade and consuming him completely for a moment.

He lunged, striking nothing but hitting everything. The enemy was blown back, a tendril wrapping around their ankles to prevent their escape. At least twenty spells bombarded the opposing team, and two beams of white lit the arena. Harry flicked his sword, returning to an offensive position as the other team members struck out at him again.

But only just a moment.

"_I'm your partner," he said calmly, almost arrogantly._

_Red eyes flashed. "So you are," the darkness chuckled._

Harry woke up with sweat dripping down from his forehead and his heart hammering against his rib cage. His eyes had snapped open, looking up at the ceiling of his room. The way his breath exhaled from his mouth was harsh, panting almost, and gave him the feeling that he had just ran a mile.

He hadn't though. He couldn't feel it in his legs.

Slowly, Harry sat up, using the back of his hand to wipe away some of his sweat. He knew very well what had happened; hadn't had it in quite some time. The same dream, the same ending, the same smooth, flowing movements that he could never perform the same in real life… At first he had thought it odd. Now, he no longer minded.

It was the very first time he and VolDeMort ever fought together.

Harry didn't quite know why he dreamed of it so many times; dreaming of games was somewhat embarrassing the first time around. Then he thought back on it, re-felt the feelings of fighting not with his keyboard, but with his body. After, he couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed. What he dreamt of had not been the game, that was for sure, but in the same way it had been.

He didn't quite know what to think of it.

The events had, in general, been the same, but the dialogue he had long forgotten, and he had definitely _not _felt the same things when they had fought together, but…

_But…_

He shook his head. Whatever it meant, he wouldn't bother trying to decode it. Dreams were dreams, not reality. Contemplatively, Harry licked his lips. They were dry, chapped, and he wished there was a water bottle in his room to answer his parched throat.

Sleep captured him again, slowly and slyly, and Harry did not mind. He welcomed it with open arms, drifting off with a single thought.

_Thrilling_.

* * *

**Very short, and sort of iffy chapter for me, tbh; it's my first "extra"!**

**Well, I wanted to write a fight scene... and... err, no words will describe this at 3AM. What I can say, however, is that ****VolDeMort's so badass, he should have a skill to go along with it:**

Badassery**: **_Passive skill. When player VolDeMort is in a party with other players, the other players gain a 40% badassery increase, assisting in the managing of dramatic and awe-inspiring moves in perfect synchronization. When player VolDeMort leaves the party, the skill remains for one minute more and then promptly disappears._

**^^^Yeah, this is what you get from me at 3AM. Sorry for all of those who wanted a longer chapter... also, a strange and sort of new writing for the fights in the beginning... please tell me how it was! Next chapter we should get back to our slytherins.**

**Er, but I hope these type of fight scenes are okay... I don't really know how to write any other, either... and though there's an explanation for why it's written out like this, next time when I actually write about fighting in the game I'm probably going to run into some issues... if you have any suggestions about that, I'm all ears!**

**Questions? Concerns? Comments? Laughter? Shoot me a review or PM and tell me all about it ^_^. I'll answer anything that you need me to (avoiding any major spoilers), and any clarifications will be explained in detail. Please note if you review anonymously, I will not be able to reply. Well, see ya'll next time! Updates might slow down, too, considering my muse is getting grumpy.**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	7. Quest VI: Dessert

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**L**ily Potter usually woke up early in the morning. That was just how it was. She rose earlier than her husband, earlier than her son's godfather, earlier than her good friend, Remus, and earlier than her only son. So, it was a surprise when she came downstairs Saturday morning to a scent of coffee and sweetness in the kitchen.

Barefoot, Lily wandered over only to see her son at the sink, washing dishes with a peaceful expression on his face. From the assortments of utensils that were there, she figured he had been making something, and a smile lit her face. It had only been a few days ago that he had told her about his hobby, and it pleased her even more to catch him in the act—or, well, maybe not in the act… but certainly the aftermath.

"Got anything for your mother?" she teased, raising herself off from her spot leaning against the doorframe and walking forward so Harry could see her across the bar.

He looked up, startled, and a small grin teased his lips. "I don't think you'd perhaps like some cake for breakfast, then?"

"Oh, I'd love something sweet right now," Lily answered right back, "And as long as your father doesn't catch me at it, might as well break the breakfast rules a bit."

Harry chuckled. "Sure thing then; just let me finish up here."

His mother's lips turned upwards into a tiny smirk. "How about you wash, and I dry? That way, I get my snack sooner than later."

He shrugged, turning back to his task. "Works for me."

Lily moved around, grabbing a towel and moving to position. Their work became as easy and repetitious as clockwork was, and she took this time to discreetly glance at her son's features. It had been a long time since she had really, really looked at him, and she was pleased with what she found. He had lost the baby fat in his cheeks, and his jaw line was strong but subtle, just like his father's. Though he bore no glasses on his face, she knew that if he cracked open a book, the first thing that he did would be to slip them on.

His shoulder build was not as broad as other men, but that came both from his mother and father, naturally small in stature. Harry had a slight muscle in his arm, enough to be visible, but he was still thin, though at least he was taller than she was.

Their task completed, Harry laid out a plate and fork for his mother, filling it with a square slice of the dessert he had made. Between family members, their tastes were not all too different, all accepting sweet and bitter but scrunching their noses up slightly at sour.

Lily blinked down at her plate. "Tiramisu?" she asked curiously.

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "Well..." he trailed off, "Do you mind if I go out today?"

"I don't see why not," she picked up her fork, ready to try—for the first time!—her son's baking. "Do you need me to drop you off?"

He smiled nervously. "That would be nice… err, do you know where Professor Snape lives?" Because he obviously didn't was left unspoken.

Lily blinked, fork halfway to her mouth. "Yes… uhm, why would you need to go there, dear?"

"I need to drop off a gift," he said, shrugging slightly. "After you told me the story about the… _pie incident_, I thought it'd be nice to give him something. Plus, he's more like a stop-and-go… there's another person I want to give something to."

His mother hummed agreeably. By this time, the delicious treat was in her mouth and her eyelids were shut, as if to amplify the flavor by doing so. After a few amusing moments of watching his mother fall in love with his cake, Harry coughed politely. She opened her eyes, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry," Lily apologized, "What were you saying?"

The edges of his lips twitched upwards in barely concealed mirth. "I was inspired, and Professor Snape's is more like a quick stop."

She nodded. "Alright then. Out of curiosity, do I know this other person you're giving the next gift to?"

Harry bit his lip. "No," he replied carefully, "Uh, and I rather you drop me off at XXX park. I'll just walk the rest of the way—it's really close by."

Slowly, Lily nodded again and took another bite of cake. "I'm assuming you'll be staying there for awhile?"

"I'm not quite sure, actually," he admitted truthfully. "I might, but considering the time, I'll be back before dark."

"Will you need a ride home?"

"Probably not," Harry said. "It's within walking distance from here… and I could probably ask him to drive me home anyways," he murmured.

"Alright then," she agreed. Silence ensued, and Harry watched his mother eat, finish, and move from her seat.

"That's… that's it?" he asked with surprise evident in his voice. He had thought that Lily would at least question who exactly he was meeting, or where, or even what he was going to deliver… but no other comments at all? Just an "alright"? Harry didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he had assumed (and even braced for it) additional queries on his plans for this afternoon. His mother had just let it go as it was, and a large part of him was very, very confused.

Lily shot him an amused look. "You've made me this wonderful treat, let me have it before breakfast even though you knew everyone else—aside from Remus—would probably whine about it being unfair, asked me if I minded if you went out, and even took into consideration my apparent apathy about your plans! Harry, you're obviously not going to go out and do drugs, or get yourself wasted with what you coming back before dark, so I don't have any issues with that. When you want to tell me who you're meeting, I'll certainly listen, but I'm not going to pry if you don't want me to."

"…The big part was letting you eat that tiramisu, wasn't it?" Harry claimed suspiciously.

A wicked grin flashed across her face, and it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Why, how awful it is that my son thinks so little of me!" She sauntered out of the kitchen towards the door leading to the stairs.

"I'm right, aren't I?" he called to her back, and light tinkling laughter filled the morning.

An hour later, they arrived promptly at Severus' doorstep. It was a plain one story house, nothing terribly fancy, but not immaculately normal either. Harry shivered at the thought; he had only met his aunt, uncle, and cousin once, but they had been so unpleasantly bland that he had almost done a double-take, wondering how his lovely mother could be related to those people.

Stepping out of the car, Harry took with him a plain, white cake box. What was inside, of course, was not a cake, but that was beside the point. He couldn't wait to see Sev's face! The thought that Harry Potter would appear on his doorstep one day probably never occurred to the man, and though they were on somewhat good terms depending on where and who they were, that did not stop the moderately evil thought of surprising the man out of his wits. Huh, must be his father's genes. The day that happened would probably be the one where he cursed himself for not having a camera.

He adopted a suitably scholarly look before his mother could see his Cheshire grin, though something probably gave him away because she looked like she was fighting the urge to laugh, scold, and smack him on the head all at the same time. Most likely, Lily had a seventh sense for these things, the sixth being her motherly instincts. The way she looked at him was reminiscent of when his father got into things that he shouldn't have, on the less serious note of course.

Practically skipping to the front, Harry coughed once before knocking. His mother stood beside him; now whether to greet her old friend properly or to make sure her son didn't do anything was up for question. It did not take long for Severus to open the door, and if the man did not have as much self control as he obviously did, he probably would've done a double take.

Rather, his right eye twitched. Harry resisted the urge to snicker like a child.

"Hello, Professor Snape," he greeted cordially. His mother, too, exchanged friendly greetings with him, and this seemed to calm him down from the oddity of the situation.

"Potter," he said, "What pleasure brings you to my front door?"

"Well," Harry began, "I was speaking to my mum of my skills in baking, and she off-handedly mentioned something about the… _pie incident_…" this earned him an elbow to the ribs, "and I thought you would appreciate this." Now, he held out to the man the white box, which Severus eyed suspiciously.

"It is not a good omen to give gifts in front of a door," he finally said stiffly. It was rude, of course, to not offer your home to be open when a person brings you an innocent gift. "Please come inside."

"We're simply here for a quick stop by, Severus," Lily replied gently. This seemed to confirm the fact that nothing in the box was dangerous, and Severus nodded his thanks and took it.

"If it interests you, sir," Harry commented, "_he's _getting a gift from me too, though that was because of a prior deal."

It was impressive that Severus knew immediately who the brat was talking about. "Oh?" he raised a questioning brow.

"I owe him," the politely-disguised student answered solemnly.

The professor tilted his head slightly to the side. "I see," was his reply, and they all bid farewell on that note.

From the window, Severus watched his old first love and her son drive away before turning his attention back to the box. Though it displeased him that Lily had told him about the _pie incident, _he supposed that it could not be helped by now. Carefully, he pulled back the lid.

If someone were to claim that he was smiling then, they would've gotten a sharp-tongued insult and a sneer.

"I hate that brat," Severus snarled even after he had licked his lips at the sight. He brought it to the kitchen, where it was left on the counter as he rummaged around to prepare for an early snack.

Inside the box sat an innocent lemon meringue pie.

"You'll come home before dark, right?" Lily asked, still in the driver's seat as Harry opened the car door. He smiled, knowing that nothing would abate his mother's worry unless it was ignorance. Before, he had thought ignorance was better, and so had left her in the dark. She was still in the dark about many things, some that he had no intention to tell her until a later time, but Harry thought he understood just a tiny bit more.

"Yes," he replied, "And I'll call if I'll be late."

The extra reassurance seemed to soothe her, and his mother smiled before she drove off. He was left in the local park, with box in hand, though this one was not blindingly white. Instead, it was a neutral crème colour that he had gotten from Remus.

From his jean pocket, Harry pulled out the small slip of paper that he had been given. In legible, spidery cursive script was the address to Tom Riddle's establishment. He began to walk towards the general direction, eyes still drawn to the note. Tom's handwriting was unique, and he'd probably never mistake it anyone else's. It looked like it came from the 1930's instead of the twenty first century.

The walk from the park to Tom's home passed quickly and without issue. Now, Harry stood in front of a two story house, separated from it by a white barred fence that was approximately waist high. It looked clean, orderly in fact, and he quickly pushed open the gate to proceed inside. Immaculate green grass lie on both sides of the small walkway, just like his own house, except there were none of the blue flowers his mother adored so much.

Now at the front door, Harry raised his hand to knock until a sudden thought hit him from nowhere. _What if Tom wasn't home? _Mentally, he cursed himself for not having the foresight to ask what his friend planned for the weekend. They always got online quite late in the night, never really in the day, which left many hours to do as they pleased.

Harry sighed. Oh well, if Tom wasn't home he'd just have to walk back and tell his mother that his companion wasn't there. The cake should not have suffered too much; pleasant breezes kept the air cool though the sun was bright and sky layered with small clouds. He knocked once, twice, thrice, and then moved back a step to wait.

When it was clear that no one was coming, he tried again, waiting less this time. Still, no one answered. He shrugged, there was really nothing he could do, and leaving cake out on the front doorstep was just plain stupid if no one was home. Thus, he turned around and planned to head back until he saw a car park against the sidewalk.

The figure that opened the car door was, of course, Tom Riddle.

He blinked owlishly. Perhaps his luck carried on to the real world this time?

Tom noticed him a few seconds later and Harry raised the hand that wasn't carrying the box in greeting.

"Were you waiting long?" the older man asked when he reached him.

"How presumptuous," Harry teased, "to immediately presume that I had waited."

"Ah, shall I praise your damnable luck then?"

"Certainly," he beamed. Apparently Tom had come to the same conclusion as he had.

Opening the door and motioning his team mate in, Riddle eyed the box cradled in his arm. "That better be the tiramisu, imp," he said.

"I think I might have switched it with Severus'," Harry idly shot right back as his flickering eyes took in the home, "So this might be a lemon meringue pie." Behind him, Tom predictably made a face. The pie was _sweet_, bordering slightly acidic, and he could usually stand not more than a bite.

"I'm going to ask for a refund if it is," he muttered, leading the way into the dining room. There was the standard wooden dining table covered in a dark tablecloth, eight chairs lined up on all of the sides. Of course, Tom was only one person, but Harry assumed he was forced to have dinner parties. He couldn't imagine the man actually willing to have seven guests at once.

Instead of stopping there, Tom continued to maneuver smoothly through the house, stopping in a sitting room instead. It was different from the one that Harry had seen when he first entered, and looked much more personal. A large bookshelf stood to one side, practically covering a whole wall. On the adjacent side was a window that took up about three fourths of the space, black drapes pushed aside to make room for light.

In fact, Tom's whole house seemed dark with or without the big windows; the wallpaper being a dark shade of blue and the furniture some other deep color. Wood was a rich color, not light and faded. Despite all of this, there was a modern air to it all. The house was not dreary or depressing, rather it was quite fashionable. There was no clutter at all.

Harry took a seat on the couch that Tom had motioned to, setting down the box on the coffee table. The other man took the opposing seat, crossing his legs and giving Harry a fairly amused look.

He blinked. "…What?"

Tom shook his head. "Let's see how good your baking actually is, imp," he said instead.

Harry scowled. "I bet Severus is happily munching on his pie right now!" Still, he opened the box and let the soft scent of coffee fill the air. A second after, the thought of the surly man _munching on a pie _seemed to entertain them both far too much, as they simultaneously snorted at the comment.

"There's only one fork," Tom noted as he fixed his eyes on the cake.

The teen cocked his head to the side. "Mmm? So?"

Riddle raised a brow. "You're not going to eat any? Careful, imp, or I'll begin to think it's poisoned."

Harry's eyes widened, "Oh! Err, right, uhm…"

Snorting, Tom waved dismissively and began to rise. "I'll fetch one from the kitchen, then."

"No, take a bite first!"

He stopped. "…_Are_ you trying to poison me?" he asked suspiciously.

Scowling, Harry glared at the comment and motioned for the man to sit back down. "Try it first. I want to see your face when you admit my cake's totally awesome. Come on! Pronto!"

Tom sighed. "The cake will still be here when I get back, Harry."

"Not if you don't go," he rebutted.

"…That doesn't make any sense."

"Of course it does," said Harry with an obvious tone, "If you don't go, you won't get back, and if you don't get back, the cake won't _still _be here because there would be no period in time for _still _to describe!"

Slowly, Tom retook his seat and shook his head. "Your logic," he muttered quietly, and then in a louder voice said, "You know, I'm beginning to really think that that cake has been tampered with." Then, almost to exaggerate his point, he began to eye it distrustfully.

"You ordered it, you eat it," stated Harry.

His companion opened his mouth to reply, probably to shoot back an insult of some kind, but Harry was quicker. With lightning speed, for his father had always had good hand-eye coordination and had passed this on to him, he picked up the fork, sliced a piece of cake with it, and then shoved it into Tom's mouth in one fluid motion, leaning slightly across the table to reach.

This, of course, was a situation that prompted a glare, and glare Tom did. _If looks could kill_, Harry mused, liking the effect of the cliché line. Shooting his companion a look in return, showing that no amount of intimidation would deter him from his goal, Harry waited until Tom closed his mouth around the fork and did some semblance of accepting the dessert. Then, he pulled the utensil out of his mouth and sat back to wait.

VolDeMort had as much or even more self-control than Severus had, so clearly this would also describe Tom Riddle's massive amount of restraint. He did not melt into the dessert like his mother had, but Harry was satisfied to see how Tom's eyelids fluttered slightly, a small movement of his mouth showing how his tongue moved inside to swipe away any excess cake.

Eagerly, Harry shamelessly stared at his friend in wait for a review.

Tom visibly swallowed before speaking. "It's good," he admitted sulkily, and Harry was forced to bite his cheek to stop from laughing. Tom would never pout, or at least 'never' in Harry's world, but that did not stop the utter look of _grief _that flittered across his face when he spoke.

As if sensing his amusement, Tom shot another glare at him, reaching across to swipe the fork from his lax grip.

"So, about me having any—"

"Hush, imp. You can sit there and make snide comments as I finish this cake."

"That's more of Sev's job…"

"You can take it, for all I care. No one's going to tell him. Now, let me eat."

Harry snickered as his companion took another bite.

Smiling happily, Harry took a seat at his desk and began the process of signing on. It had been a good day, what with the trip to Severus' and the stop at Tom's. Dinner had been delicious, too, and he was eager to get his professor's snarky opinion on his pie.

Now online, he noted how the others were both on as he received his party invite. Instead of greeting everyone with a hello, Harry went straight to business.

"So, Sev, I know what Tom thought about my baking, but you're a complete mystery," here he sent a sly look to the priest, "How'd you like the pie?"

"I hate you, brat," the man snarled at him. This only served to send Harry into a fit of laughter, completely ignoring his teacher's sneer.

If no one saw VolDeMort roll his eyes, well… that was their own fault, wasn't it?

* * *

**I lied. A bit. Well, not really. No CoS, but we certainly get some slytherins! **

**This is the official dessert chapter. I repeat, this is the official dessert chapter. As much as I love writing about their travels in CoS, you didn't really think I would leave the tiramisu that Tom was craving an empty hole, right? Though, if there were any empty holes in my story (there are many), the biggest one would probably be Harry's field trip. I confess that I have absolutely no plans for it, and it was only a result from the mention in chapter 1.**

**A_ lot_ of people have been asking for their ages, so here they are: Harry is seventeen, and the only one with an exact age. Severus is the same age as Lily, James, Sirius, and Remus, which is in their mid-late thirties to early forties. Tom is younger than Severus, aged at around his mid-late twenties... maybe ten years older than Harry? Give or take two years on that one.**

**Remember guys, if you review anonymously, I cannot give your review a reply! Most of my replies are in thorough detail, as questions are usually asked. Please take some time to log on to your account! On that note, if you have any questions, comments, or cake (I like mocha flavored), please pop in a review or a PM! I'd like to clear up as much confusion as I can, because I know not all of you are gamers.**

**'Til next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	8. Quest VII: The Deathly Hollows

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**R**olling his shoulders, Harry sighed and leaned back into his chair, pencil falling out of his lax hand. Flawless notes were scattered about the desk, a textbook lying idle propped up against a stack of other books. _This should be good enough for tomorrow._

Green eyes glanced up at the clock the hung against the wall, watching as the second hand ticked by in constant intervals of time. It was earlier than he usually finished, and for good reason. He had rushed through his work today, and a small part of him felt guilty, but these weeks would be special. It was, after all, that time again.

The official ranking matches were starting.

In CoS, there were two types of ranks a player or team could hold. For players, there was the level and PvP ranks. For teams, there was also PvP, but the main type was points. Points were obtained by questing, grinding, fighting other teams, and just generally doing activities with your team. There were also events specifically to gain points as a goal, and Harry, Tom, and Severus had done these often enough.

Generally speaking, the top ten teams were the top ten for both points and PvP. Their order, however, was slightly different. As team Deathly Hollows, DH for short, they were rank five for the former and three for the latter. Amusingly enough, most people didn't call them by their team name, far too distracted with the fact that they had _VolDeMort_ as a team mate and were the smallest of the top ten. It was annoying, yes, but Harry had already gotten used to it. The "Oh! You're in that one team!" and "What? You're in the team that VolDeMort is in?!" had, of course, pissed him off in the beginning, mainly because everyone was saying the same thing…

But Harry was over it.

Stretching, he reached over for a water bottle that he kept at the edge of his desk during this time. Often he found himself thirsty, and did not like having to run down stairs to grab a quick drink while the matches were going on. There were very, very good teams out there, and watching them play as well was half the battle. If you could follow them, read their movements, predict it all, you could tell whether or not you were ready.

The beginning would be easy. As more and more teams were disqualified, it would get harder and harder. Match points also weren't always decided by who had a "victory" screen the fastest, which was why official ranking matches always had a large number of GMs on standby. They took into consideration the amount of losses your team suffered, the skill the team as a whole displayed, and other things. Extra points were awarded for this and that, which helped choose who your next opponent would be.

It was, to be honest, a very complicated system, and one of the reasons why Chamber of Secrets Online was so successful. The creators cared what went on in the game, and cared about how the community was doing. Well, if not the creators, then the game masters and administrators did. Games that had such thoughtful overseers were rare, and quite hard to find.

Of course, during this time, "normal" matches could also take place, but they would not be counted towards the official rankings. The system chose your opponent, which assisted in making sure no cheating took place.

Tom had probably already filled out the registration for their team, which meant all Harry had to do was log on, check the time and date, and find out who their opponent was. He checked the clock again, and turned back to stare at his computer. _Well, it's about time to get on…_ His body rose out of the chair, and just as he was about to walk over, someone knocked on his door.

"Harry?" The sound of his father's voice surprised him, and he quickly went over to unlock the only exit and entrance to his room.

"Hi Dad."

"I hope I wasn't disturbing your, err, studying, was I?"

"Not at all," Harry blinked, moving to the side to let his father in. Said man easily entered, though looked a bit lost with his words. James took a seat on his bed, elbows resting against his thighs.

"Was there anything you needed?"

"Well," James began, "Not… really, but… hmm… Do you remember, a long time ago, when Sirius asked you to play a game with us…?"

"Yeah, Chamber of Secrets, right?" he asked, and his father looked at him in apparent surprise. "A lot of people at school talk about it," Harry clarified.

"Right… I was just wondering if you ever reconsidered… playing with us?" he said nervously.

_Fuck_, Harry thought, completely baffled, _what the hell am I going to say? _

"Uh…" Harry began, feeling the awkward atmosphere for the first time, "Any reason why?" he asked, trying to stall.

"Mm… well, your mother is trying to reach out to you… and…" almost sheepishly, James rubbed the back of his neck. "What I'm trying to say is—"

"You thought us playing together would be a good start?" he quickly inputted, feeling some sort of pity well up in the pit of his stomach. His father was never really good with words, more of an action man, and this was usually perfectly fine… unless he was trying to have a serious conversation with Harry. Both his wife and son had sharp tongues, quick witted in the art of verbal play naturally. James did not have this, and sometimes created awkward atmospheres with his lack of… Harry felt eloquence was too harsh of a wording, but generally, yes, his lack of eloquence.

"Yes," he replied, shooting his son a nervous smile, "Something like that."

"I…" Harry paused. He could not reject the man, for he was his father and he cared for him… but how strange would it be if he simply blurted out "Not really, but that's because I've been playing with this other team… and you know Severus Snape? Mum's friend? The guy you bullied when you were at Hogwarts? Yeah. He's part of it. Just thought you'd like to know…"?

That would've been terrible. Not to mention, James would probably have a very strong dislike towards Tom as well. In one way, though Harry hated to phrase it like this because it simply brought thoughts that were _all too wrong_, Tom was like a taste acquired. Unless you were like Severus, you probably could not fathom how you could get along with the man, and that was only if he wasn't holding up a façade right in front of your face. Tom was a very good actor, something James would fail to appreciate and instead abhor right from the beginning.

"I've thought about it…" he began cautiously and slowly, "but… I mean…"

His father looked at him curiously, finding a Harry that was lost for words very odd. He wasn't like this too often, and only when he was frustrated.

"It's not that I don't want to play with you, Sirius, and Remus," Harry started up again, "And I'm not adverse to the idea of playing CoS either… err… well—"

"It's alright, Harry, I think I understand what you're trying to say," James soothed. His son blinked owlishly, as if that was impossible.

"Y-you do?"

"You're trying to tell me that CoS probably isn't your type of game, right?" he claimed. Harry almost choked. Not his type of game—?!

"Wha—no, it's…" Though he knew he should just go with it, letting his father clearly misunderstand the situation was against Harry's nature. He might not be able to think up anything else, but he didn't want to mislead him—!

"It's okay," James said, "I understand. We can bond by other means. How about we head camping during your next break?"

Camping did sound nice… but still—! "I think you're misunderstanding—" Harry tried to say, but was cut off again.

"Huh, not camping eh? Well, we're definitely heading to the beach over summer, so maybe we'll go out a bit farther this time? Not the closest beach, but maybe the next one over? How's that sound?" His father was smiling happily, and Harry didn't have the heart to tell him anything else. He gave up. No one could tell him that he hadn't tried.

"The beach sounds great," he replied instead of a hysterical "I'M PLAYING CoS ALREADY AND YOU WOULD PROBABLY HATE MY TEAM BUT I LOVE THEM SO THERE!"

"Great," James beamed, "I'll tell your mother ahead of time. Maybe, if you want, we could stay at the cottage by the sea that we stayed in when you were little…?"

Harry didn't remember that, but it did sound wonderful… "Sure," he agreed.

"Excellent. Well, that's all! I'll leave you to your books and papers," said James, motioning over to Harry's cluttered desk.

"Oh… err, right."

After his father left the room, Harry collapsed face first onto his bed. _Fuck. I'm so fucked._ Turning his head towards his PC once more, he noted that it looked so much farther away than it had before. Was his room always this big? Maybe it was just his head…

Five minutes ticked by without movement. Sighing, he decided it was time to stop moping and get on. By now, he was late by his schedule, and though no one else but himself would notice, it still gave him a nasty feeling. Hopefully, this would not carry over to the tournament, so he could fight without problem.

Logging on, Harry was greeted casually by his two companions, and both noted how exhausted he looked.

"Brat…?"

"Dad," he said in reply to Severus' questioning brow. This was clearly a legitimate answer for the chemistry professor, and he shook his head in disgust.

"Ah," their healer sounded in understanding.

"Imp…?" Tom asked in much the same way Severus had. He almost snorted, but didn't. The dark lord was clearly fishing for more information.

"Misunderstanding," Harry replied this time. His companion would be able to put the two together.

"Ah," Tom nodded in comprehension.

The berserker shook his head to end the subject. "So, what's the news?"

Discussion of the upcoming tournament flowed easily, new tactics popping up every now and then. Configurations were also discussed, as were skill patterns and timing. Though they were rank 3, that didn't mean they wouldn't have to work for it. VolDeMort was the experienced one, as Scarred did not PvP unless it was team fights (though they fought often in these, too). HBPrince, of course, was their healer, and his experience against other players did not count as much. He would not have to predict movement, but only damage. It was the attacker's job to also protect their support.

The only real thing they had going for them was intimidation and their iconic team work. And, Harry supposed, the Gorgon's Pendants, but he wouldn't want to depend on those too often.

"So, Heart of Will will last for three minutes now that I've maxed it, which means in that time I'll be depending on your Soul Bind Voldie. Sev can't heal me when it's activated, and after the three minutes are up I'll be a quick-shot kill, having only 1 HP," Harry explained. The Heart of Will skill was a difficult but extremely useful skill to learn. It required perfect timing, as it allowed you to take zero damage but was only able to be used when you were about to die.

"Will healing VolDeMort also transfer that heal to you?" asked Severus.

"It should, because Soul Bind isn't Aura Bind. Aura Bind only shares, while Soul Bind also gives and transfers through command," Tom replied.

"Your spells are so confusing…" whined the berserker.

"That's why the ability cap for Dark Lords is so high, imp. There aren't many players who want to take the time and learn them."

Severus inclined his head in agreement. "Will I have to tell you a split second before I heal?" he then asked.

"No," Tom disagreed, "That would take too long. I'll just go by instinct."

The support inclined his head in acceptance once more. "Then I shall try to be predictable for you."

"I hope you guys know we won't be able to depend on my Heart of Will skill for all the matches," Harry said contemplatively, "If we use it too much, they'll all know that I'm running HoW style, and then we might be screwed... because then they'll target Voldie."

The dark lord nodded. "How about taking out taunt from your combo and adding in Iron Heart? Then we'll all get a nice buff when you're below 60% HP." Berserkers normally did not have any buffs in their arsenal, which made the few that they possessed generally were situational. "Taunt'll be useless for you in PvP."

"True," he murmured, "I was planning to take it out, anyways… maybe combine IH with Ferocious Aura? Sev?"

"I'll obviously have my strongest ATTK+ATTK SPE buff combo up for you, brat, so go ahead. Though, last time you were absolutely terrible at using it…" Severus trailed off.

"I got better," reassured Harry. Ferocious Aura was another difficult skill to use, but was ridiculously powerful when combined with Iron Heart. Iron Heart was a buff that increased all party member's attack speed and defenses, and Ferocious Aura was a buff primarily that raised the user's attack by 5 for every attack speed point they had. Secondarily, it was a skill that shot spits of aura out in a circular range around the player. If it hit an opponent, they would take the same effect curse had, along with a huge chunk of HP first.

The downside was that the range was very short, so you usually popped an FA only when you were charging into a bunch of players (you wanted to get as many people in range as you could), or when you were being mobbed. Buff-wise, it was useless if you weren't going to use its secondary effect, as no one would get in close enough range for you to attack them when an FA was active.

Scarred had failed terribly at it the last time, which had been _very_ embarrassing… so he made a point to practice it whenever he could.

Talk continued until it was approaching their turn for the match. They were against team Zephyr, whose leader was a marksman of considerable skill. The rest of the team wasn't all too bad, but their overall rankings were not high enough to be recognized, thus proving to be no real problem. It was, Tom noted, a good warm up, and Harry had just shrugged. Their team had demolished them, simple as that.

Next on the list (as Tom had filled their registrar up for most of their session's time) was Kamikaze, who also proved to be no problem. This was how the tournament usually went for the first day, with little to no issue brought up. Idly, Severus, Tom, and Harry all conversed as they walked through their matches, completely at ease and not expecting any real challenge. They wouldn't run into anyone they knew until their points shot up a bit more.

Of course, their next opponent threw Harry completely off. "Bloody hell!" he shouted as he saw the match up. His team mates looked at him curiously, but then Severus saw the listing and cursed as well.

"It's karma," moaned Harry in despair.

"I'm not seeing the issue," Tom commented, raising a brow, "This isn't a team we've ever fought against, though I think they're in the top 100."

"You don't understand at all," Severus claimed, "This team is made up of the most annoying people to have ever walked the Earth."

"Hey, now," Harry cut in, "They're not _that_ bad… What's Remus ever done to you?"

"Nothing," the professor sneered, "Absolutely nothing, which is exactly it."

"He taught me how to bake," reasoned the teen, "And you would've never gotten that pie from me without him."

"Don't," Severus commanded. "Speak one more word of them and I'll wholeheartedly give you a week of detention."

Tom, who by now had caught on to the situation, observed this with keen eyes and filed the information away for later. "Are they any good?" he queried.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I've never seen them fight. They're all warriors, though."

"Idiotic," sneered Severus.

"It works for them," he shot back, feeling the need to defend his family.

Sighing, Tom nodded his head. "Alright. I'll focus on harassing them and keeping soul bind up then."

"Please destroy them for me," their support snarled.

"Calm down, Sev. I have no intentions of losing. We need to get our points up, anyways."

"If we have to face them again after this," Severus muttered, because he knew this was completely possible, "you _will _obliterate them."

Harry and Tom shared a look. Somewhere in this house, the former knew the three marauders were running into this blind. He almost pitied them, because though Severus could not do much damage, he _could _annoy the hell out of them… and he would. Oh, he definitely _would_.

They were all teleported once again into the familiar arena, and across from them was the opposing team. Harry saw all three of them clearly, and could identify them immediately. Severus could, too, because he began to mutter angrily.

There was Moony, who was Remus Lupin. Padfoot was Sirius Black, and Prongs was his father, James Potter.

"_! They have a priest!" _Padfoot exclaimed.

This only proved to further incite Severus, as he snarled again and growled out, "Priest! _Priest?! _I'm a sage, damn it! Black, that idiot, thinking that just anyone who could heal as a mage is a _priest_…" Of course, confusion between a priest and a sage always got on Severus' nerves. A priest was the third job advancement in the Mage – Cleric line, which split into the fourth job advancements of Bishop or Sage. A sage was more focused on utility, with the Bishop focusing on all types of revival and healing type moves, with some offensive moves scattered in. Typically, the offense was more of a one-monster skill, though if amplified right it could hurt.

Harry had only found out what a sore subject this was when he had mistakenly called HBPrince "priest" before online, which had been early on in his joining and before Severus had found out who the player Scarred really was. Harry had been lectured, of course. He never made the mistake again.

"_Good luck and have fun," _said Moony, which was the standard greeting before a match started.

"GL and HF my arse," spat Severus. Harry sighed and Tom shook his head in exhaustion.

"_You too," _Scarred replied. It was only common courtesy…

The countdown ticked to two, one, and zero. Harry flexed his fingers, preparing for the oncoming fight. He used the standard arrow keys to move, though W-A-S-D was perfectly acceptable as well because he was ambidextrous. The option was turned off, however, for maximum amount of skills on the keyboard. Because Harry was one of the few who did not use a game controller to PvP seriously, He was forced to have his skills set on strategic places so combo-ing would be easier.

Harry also used the tab button to select his enemies, though some of his skills also required manual aiming. His mouse stood to the side, completely ignored for the duration of his fights.

With his quick eyes, he watched the screen as Severus began to buff. The Marauders were also buffing themselves, all three warriors and close ranged. A three versus three, he did not know how this fight would go.

Moony, the tankier one of the three, moved first, a standard maneuver which set Harry at ease. He could not afford to miss a prediction.

Scarred moved forward as well, followed by VolDeMort a few meters away. Quickly using Skid Dash, a skill that allowed him to bypass Moony completely and catch Padfoot unawares, he popped a Wide Slash, hitting the latter and Prongs in the process. Then, whirling around to face an odd angle that put him facing all the others, Sword Shield had him moving at lightning speed, cutting deep gashes into the less-tankier warriors' HP while simultaneously discouraging them from moving forward.

Moony dashed towards him however, making it through the shield and knocking him back like a ram. He was snared by VolDeMort, who sent dark purple will-o-wisps out towards the enemy team. Scarred escaped narrowly with a Skid Back, dodging Padfoot's combo just in time.

The berserker twisted, a signature impaling skill on the cusp of his fingers. It managed to skim Moony and directly hit Prongs, who had been trying to sneak up on the dark lord. This, of course, led him to be open to Padfoot's furious attacks, but he was pulled by an Aura Bind to his darkness just in time, using the opportunity to pop a Ferocious Aura on Prongs, who had been getting too close again. This missed Moony by a millimeter, causing Harry to curse.

"I thought you got better…?" Severus commented as he began to harass Padfoot. In the right hands, a sage running harass-skills was dangerous.

Prince had gone all out, using a slowing skill and poison to poke safely. The poison damage wasn't all too great, but combined with slow it easily sent less-experienced players into a rage. The attack speed buff that was on all of them was the icing on the proverbial cake. In fact, Prince was kiting him perfectly, dancing right out from under his foe's nose right when he was about to strike back. If Padfoot was a good player, he would back off and help his team with the two damage dealers, as he was clearly getting nowhere with killing off their support.

"I'm just warming up," Harry grumbled, seemingly not burdened by the fact that he was fighting his family now that he was in the mood.

Scarred danced about, using his Boomerang skill to rally himself between two close players—in this case, Prongs and Moony. The former managed to pop a skill right when he was occupied with the latter, and it hit him for a direct attack. However, he also suffered from a couple quick-speed spells shot from VolDeMort to manage this.

Harry thought he should've known better. He had gotten his amazingly quick-eyes from his father, after all.

By now, Padfoot was, in fact, a good player after all, and charged at VolDeMort's form from behind as he gave up on Prince. His aim was to deter him from Prongs, and it might've worked and even have gotten an instant kill if it were any other classed player than a dark lord. Using Shadow Shift, the player VolDeMort easily melted into the ground and glided out of their range, reappearing two seconds later a distance away.

However, Padfoot had managed his goal, as Prongs was still alive. They both popped a support skill, one of the few warriors possessed, and managed to heal themselves back up to a bit above half health. Moony was back in full.

The problem with a warrior's support skills were that they only worked in close to mid range and Harry's quick eyes easily timed their movements perfectly. Half a second to heal, the other half of a second for the animation to finish…

Scarred burst in with a Skid Dash, quickly popping a Ferocious Aura and hitting them all for maximum damage. VolDeMort followed up instantaneously with his Crowning Fire, a move that sent a burst of dark flames towards one enemy and then speedily leapt to another. Obviously, this combination of skills hurt very, very much, taking away any health (and a bit more) that the trio had gained from their support skills.

Tauntingly, the dark lord used Shadow Shift again to appear right in their midst, throwing spells at the one with the lowest health. VolDeMort himself was close to half HP, and this was enough to lure the other players into an easily made trap. Before the dark lord managed to summon his berserker to him, Scarred popped a Sword Shield, thus having it active when he teleported right next to his darkness.

Prince threw shields on both of them, having been also spamming his heal on Scarred for the duration of the fight after Padfoot had seemingly not wanted to play anymore. Buffs were re-cast also.

The three warriors were not idiots though, and quickly Skid Back'd away from the two. This worked perfectly fine for Scarred and VolDeMort, who happily observed in a split second that the tank was far away from Padfoot, who conveniently enough had the least health. They of course used this opportunity to jump on him with skills and normal attacks, Scarred absentmindedly tossing a few slashes behind him to catch the two others running to assist their team mate.

A spiral attack from Scarred was what Padfoot met his end to, VolDeMort catching the other two players in a bind. Prince had thrown slows at the both of them, not even giving them a chance to dodge, which worked wonderfully well for their next impromptu combination.

The dark lord became an inky black sludge, melting and thinning into nothingness as the main body of the darkness leapt high into the air. It came down upon the two unfortunate warriors, blasting away much of their health and allowing Prince's poison to catch a kill for kicks.

Prongs down, Scarred impaled Moony and then flung him into the air, jumping at the same time to slam him down into the ground with his sword's blade. Curse, combined with the aerial attack bonus, cut the tank down and he disappeared into a white flashy light.

"You did get better," Tom said approvingly to Harry as the victory screen appeared.

"Yes, well, it would've been embarrassing if I failed my FA again like last time, wouldn't it?" deadpanned the approved berserker.

"Past embarrassing," agreed Severus, "You missed them all, and not even by an inch. They were light years away from you."

"Shush," Harry growled, cheeks flushed red at the reminder.

They had received high match points for this fight, and so walked away with a victory under their belt and satisfaction. It was the last game scheduled today, and Harry found himself smiling. The first two fights had not been very engaging, nor had the next one after that… but this one been fun. The Marauders were pretty good.

Now back in the waiting room, the team was about to leave until they were approached by the same people they had just fought.

"_Hey! You guys are amazing!"_ Padfoot praised. _"That was our first loss today."_

"_You weren't all too bad yourselves," _said Scarred modestly, as Prince was refusing to be polite and VolDeMort didn't talk all too much.

"_You completely owned us," _Moony disagreed.

In real life, Harry shrugged shyly. "Well," he muttered under his breath, "If you want to put it _that_ way…"

"_What team are you guys again?" _asked Prongs curiously. His curiosity was echoed by his team mates, who all typed some variation of an emoticon.

"_Deathly Hollows," _interjected VolDeMort. At their question marks, Harry sighed.

"_Uh, smallest team on the top 10…?" _Scarred attempted, trying not to sound like he was bragging.

"…_O_O. You're _that _team?!" _was the gist of what was said by the Marauders.

"_Yes…"_

"_Woah!" _Padfoot exclaimed, _"No wonder! You guys definitely earned your spot there ;D. Teach me some of your moves, Scarred?"_

"_Our berserker is already under ownership," _sneered Prince. _"I believe he's licensed as well."_

"…_?" _

"_He's mine," _said VolDeMort shamelessly.

Light talk continued after that, and it ended with all of the Marauders adding Scarred to their friends list, much to Harry's distress. He doubted they added his other team mates.

"Did you have to put it like that?" Harry exclaimed later to his team. "I mean, what the hell am I going to say when they find out Scarred is _me? _Because they're definitely going to find out at some point."

"It serves them right… In fact, take pictures of their shocked faces for me," Severus commanded.

Tom sighed. "Imp, you're overreacting."

"…I hate you two."

* * *

**Yep. We get the fight scene that I was talking about, and though it didn't exactly go as it had in Quest V: Cutscene 1X, I'm pretty satisfied. If you all don't feel the same, and think it's very boring to read, I'll try to switch it up a bit...** **It's sort of hard to judge whether or not the writing's good because I see it all in my head very easily. **

**Err... also, about Sev's class... Yeah, I've been calling him a priest. Why? So you people will understand his job... but he's a sage. Trust me. He's been a sage since the beginning of chapter two.**

**So! We get our first father-son moment (awkward!), Tom, Harry, and Severus' team name is revealed, and well... stuff. Before I started writing it, I actually wanted team DH to fight Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville's team... but oh well! The Marauders can kick some ass too, only they didn't really, because DH owned them first. Damn, ninja'd!**

**As for the ending... Tom's sort of assertive, isn't he? Don't worry, they aren't in love yet, though I get the feeling like it's more than plain friendship... -shifty eyes-**

**Well, you know how it is. Questions? Concerns? Comments? Issues? Did I misspell something? Review or PM me if you can answer any of the aforementioned, and I'll reply to all reviews (unless it's anonymous, in which I cant).**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	9. Quest VIII: Four Minute Limit

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**H**e jogged along at a light, brisk pace, not trying his hardest but, at the same time, not slacking either. It was his P.E. hour, and they were simply running laps after their warm up and a few talks had ended. Harry was quick, not the fastest, but still small and speedy. On days like this, he would use the time to think as he mindlessly moved with a constant pace, ignoring all the people he passed and who passed him in turn.

It was a few days after the first official ranking match session, and they had defeated quite a large amount of teams since then. Deathly Hollows maneuvered through their fights easily, trusting in their team mates to cover them and use combinations that easily led to openings for one another. They were in-sync, and that was all. Soon though, the matches would get more difficult, and victory would be close calls and lucky chances.

Harry did not have much faith that they could raise their rank up from third, but he did not want to be lowered either. He wondered how much the other teams have improved, and knew that anyone within the top twenty ranks would prove to be a challenge well fought. VolDeMort had also been giving him tips on some of his combos, and he took them wholeheartedly. Though a mage, that did not mean the dark lord did not have any experience with warriors or berserkers specifically, as he had played against many in his time of PvPing.

Speaking of the older player… It had been quite a while since they had met in real life, ever since the tiramisu visit actually. Though this was understandable, Harry couldn't help but be disappointed. Tom was a joy to converse with, having a running sense of subtle humor and easy knowledge that not many others had. He also missed feeling the presence of the older man, and the thought set a frown onto his face.

He missed Tom, and not just seeing or hearing him. There was something different when they were out in real life, something key to human interaction that speaking to a computer screen just would never have. Perhaps it added another dimension to their friendship, because now they weren't "someone you would probably never meet outside". They had met, and Tom knew where he lived and vice versa.

Harry just wished he would be able to take advantage of that fact. He shamelessly wanted the man's company.

Depressing thoughts pierced by a high-pitch whistle, the teen slowed down his jog to a walk and began to make his way back to the locker rooms. Other students repeated this action as well, the sound having ended the class period. A layer of chatter flowed through the air and Harry turned his head upwards to look at the sky. He wondered how Tom was fairing in his office.

A teacher walked up to his side, sending Harry a smile. "How've you been doing, Mr. Potter? Any plans to join cross country? It's your last year here, after all… It'd look great on your records!"

Harry gave the man an apologetic look. "Sorry sir, I'm afraid not. Sports simply don't hold an interest to me right now…"

The aging man frowned. "Are you sure? We'd love to have you on the team… Soccer and Track and Field would also love to take you if you're willing."

"Ah… sorry… I have to focus on my academics right now, you see, especially _because _it's my last year…"

"Alright…" sighed the teacher, "But if you change your mind, you report straight to cross country now, you hear? Can't have Soccer and Track teams taking all the good runners!"

Harry smiled slightly. "Yes, sir," he replied, and left towards the inner lockers.

Frowning, the teacher shook his head. "What a shame… Potter's such a speedy kid; he'd do perfectly in the right sports, despite his height."

After changing back into his uniform and going through his day, Harry made it back home with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. He had greeted Remus, who had picked him up today since both Lily and James had been forced to stay back at work, skipping their usually late lunch break, and eased himself into a stool placed at the bar.

"How's it been going, Moony?" he asked the man as he moved through the kitchen.

Remus sent him a calm smile. "Alright. The bakery's been doing fantastic lately, and I've been trying to come up with some new recipes."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Oh? Like what?"

The baker shrugged. "Eh, well, just some more diverse variations of classic treats. I want to cater to those who have a unique taste, too, so they can enjoy the pastries as well."

Humming, the teenager nodded and suddenly straightened, having recalled an idea that might help his mentor. "Have you tried… green tea Tiramisu?"

Remus paused in his movement, turning around to stare oddly at him. "Green tea tiramisu…?"

"Mhm, I find it to be bitterer than the classic Italian design. Here, check in that drawer there," Harry said, pointing to the side.

Blinking, the man did as he was told and found a card with a list of ingredients and instructions listed. "When did this get here?" he asked amusedly. "Harry…?"

"You can try it out for yourself. It didn't suit _my _purposes… but who knows? That drawer is magic, by the way." Grinning, Harry hopped off of his stool and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, absently waving back at Remus. "I'm going to get a head start on my homework. See you at dinner time."

Despite himself, Moony smiled and shook his head. "Magic drawer, hm?" Digging inside it once more, he found a stack of recipes that he had never seen before… or _had_ he? This one there was for a cheesecake he had served at Lily and James' anniversary dinner, and another was for a type of lemon scone that he had commonly made when Harry had been six.

The deeper he dug, the older the recipe got, and the fonder the memory. In the end, he had assembled a variety of things he could serve at the bakery, though there were what curiously seemed to be new additions. For example, he had never tasted a green tea tiramisu, even though he had heard of it from an employee. There was also a wide range of treacle tart recipes; though he was quite sure he knew who _those _came from…

Remus chuckled. It seemed like Harry hadn't given up baking after all, even through the years. Perhaps he could convince the boy to work part time…?

Up in his room, Harry was working through his pile of homework with only a part of his brain. His attention was still wandering, and he was confident in his multi-tasking abilities to do well, so he allowed this. History, mathematics, literature… they all moved by at his own pace, smooth and easy with hardly a problem.

_The Battle of Trafalgar…_

_X is equal to…_

_In the passage below, it states…_

Homework, self-study, reading several chapters ahead... it was like clockwork for Harry. School's common pattern helped him along, giving him a sense of direction where he probably would've had to focus more on finding the answers. It was the little things, like how the first paragraph was hardly questioned on, or how he knew that all definitions would be needed at some point, or even how some questions were the same as others—simply with different names to go in the same places.

For math, it was calculations upon calculations, meticulous work that must have no mistakes. If his answer looked wrong, it probably was, and he would have to re-do it all over again. Time passed slowly, but without a hitch. Homework, for Harry, was the easiest part. It was the studying that was the most tedious—because you didn't have assigned work for it, and all the information could easily go in one ear and out the other. Or eye, so to speak… but as he copied notes upon notes down, all preparing for a check through, his mind wandered.

_I wonder how…_

_What if…_

_Is this…_

He stopped. Glancing up at the clock almost lazily, Harry took in the time and decided to walk down for a check on dinner. Afterwards, he supposed his notes would need a quick once over before he hopped on for a round of CoS. _Hmm…_

Downstairs, the smiling face of his mother and the laughter and jibes of the marauders met him. No one noticed his playful grin. _It was good to be home._

"—re you being sincere?" Severus finished seriously as Harry joined the chat.

"…? What's up, guys?" he asked curiously. His curiosity became even more insistent as both his companions looked at him in surprise, almost as if they hadn't seen themselves click the invite to party button.

"Nothing at all, brat," said Severus even as he turned to hear Tom's answer.

"Yes," replied Tom in an equally somber tone, "I am."

Severus inclined his head. "Then there is nothing more that I will say on the matter."

Harry blinked owlishly. What had they been talking about? "Match is going to start in five minutes…" he reminded carefully.

"Right. Did you have any last minute combinations you wanted to go through?" asked Tom easily, completely distanced from the fact that there had just been a serious conversation.

"Err… no, everything should be good to go," Harry replied.

"Let's report to the arena then," Severus suggested.

Though still slightly thrown off track, Harry understood that they weren't going to say anymore when he was here. This was enough for him to mentally frown, but if it was important, they'd tell him. No matter how pressing his curiosity was, he didn't want to stick his nose into things that would upset his team mates. That wouldn't be good for the team _or _their relationship, so he would stay quiet.

Today, to start everything off, they were pitted against team Bladez and, as the name implied, they did not have a mage in their composition. Instead, they had a rogue, two warriors, and two archers. This was not the first five-member team Deathly Hollows had faced, nor would it be their last, as they got more bountiful the higher up the ranks you climbed. Full-member teams were also common among the high ranks.

The archers would cause a problem if left alive too long, so they would be the target. Rogues were not defensive in nature, so perhaps theirs third? Two warriors could be ignored for the more troublesome of classes, and Severus would stack enough shields and buffs on them so they shouldn't have to matter all too much.

One thing was for sure: they couldn't drag this match on for too long. The objective would have to be to go in, strike fast, and jump back with victory. Because the other side had the advantage in numbers, it would not be wise to keep things going longer than they should. Also likely would be the forcing of Harry to reveal his trump: the Heart of Will skill, which ultimately would show his playing style for the match.

It would be dangerous to use it more than twice—things would have to end very quickly.

Facing off against each other, the teams exchanged courtesies and greetings. It looked like their foes knew exactly who they were, as they spoke to them with respect and reverence. Harry sighed. They didn't have the advantage of underestimation this round.

"Careful, Sev. If you go down, this might be over," Harry warned.

"I can only protect you so much," cautioned Tom as well.

Severus nodded. "Understood."

"Move with us," the berserker suddenly said as the countdown neared zero, "Buff as you go, I'm going to try and go for an instant kill. Attack and Attack speed first, hopefully I can knock them off their game."

"I'll catch them with a Crowning Fire first, so if it gets too dangerous I can pull Prince back. Don't get caught, imp," warned Tom.

The count hit zero, and Scarred moved.

The other team was just starting on their buffs, and were caught off guard just as planned when Scarred double Skid Dash'd into their midst. Not many lower level players had the skill to do this, as a double Skid Dash required you to jump right before the first reached the destination so the next one could be launched without a second's wait.

Crowning Fire had already been released, and VolDeMort was in the process of chaining his combos with binds and snares littered through them as to give his berserker more time. Prince stayed close behind with a teleport, having cast the shields already and were working on the buffs. As a safeguard, he popped an area slowing skill, which had an absurdly long cooldown but was useful in situations such as this.

Scarred rushed in with a Ferocious Aura, narrowly catching the rogue in it too as he aimed to help the defenseless archer. Crowning Fire had already hit them for damage, and now the berserker chose to rally in between said players, foregoing the second archer. Seeing the approaching players, he pulled a Wide Slash to finish off the archer and get some damage off on the rogue, quickly backing himself away afterwards from his foes and putting them in between the rest of his team mates.

Prince had already figured out what he was going to do, and pulled back as he was forgotten, tossing an irritating poison at the second archer.

The opposing team threw a ridiculous amount of skills at him, some dodged and others hitting right on their mark. Scarred's health was falling fast, but his team made no move to save him yet other than poking their opponents in the back.

They clearly wanted to take out the berserker.

Harry waited until the perfect moment; from his prior knowledge he knew their team's rogue was a close-ranged bandit, classed as a Thief King. He also saw that said rogue's health was not nearly low enough to be cause for concern when going in for a kill. This was exactly what he wanted. Flickering green eyes took in the situation calmly, waiting and waiting until…

_Now_.

The rogue sped towards Scarred with a skilled strike, raising his arm again to finish off his combo, but Scarred was faster. He was a berserker, after all. Catching them all with a Sword Shield, the warrior blew them back out of knockback range, though keeping the rogue within his own. Unable to shoot at him because of his quick-speed motion, the archer was unable to stop the assault.

He cut off the shield early, thrusting his blade into the rogue and tossing him up in the air, seeming to launch himself up for an aerial attack bonus but in fact did not. Instead, from below he pierced him with Ultimate Reckoning for a one hundred percent chance of cutting his foe's overall health by forty percent, probably leaving the bandit at 30 HP maximum.

The rest of the team charged at the berserker, aiming for a kill as their team mate was stunned by the Gorgon's Pendant effect. VolDeMort made no move to help him, instead shooting off a bolt of dark magic and finishing off the rogue for a second kill.

Harry smiled, finger mercilessly pressing the key that would activate his Ferocious Aura and its effect.

Scarred caught them all in his trap, but was left at a measly ten percent health. Seeing this, the archer launched a skill shot at him, confident in her belief that this would be a kill.

It was not.

Instead of summoning Scarred to himself, VolDeMort had used Soul Bind, transferring Severus' heal to him and also giving him some of his own HP. This was, however, not why the archer's skill missed. No, in fact, Scarred had Skid Dash'd _towards _her, away from his team again, barely dodging the burning arrow and flinging her backwards into the air simply with an upward slice. He leapt after her, twirling in mid air with his blade pointed in a diagonal downwards position, and struck again.

His skill caught her in a messy strike, though by now the other team mates had caught up and were about to strike him down. He could not finish her off without dying himself, so left her there and Skid Dash'd through the whole party, no one able to stop him. Once in range, VolDeMort shot Aura Bind at him, grabbing his berserker to his location and allowing their sage to restore all of the health he had lost.

Spells of powerful magic damage shot after the other team, who were by now frazzled as their composition was screwed up beyond hell. They managed to recover quickly enough, spreading their leftover three members to no longer be in range.

Scarred tossed an EQ Slice at the less tankier warrior, which struck from the ground at a close-to-mid range, and the end of it just narrowly chipped at the archer behind him.

Harry cursed.

"Someone kill that thrice be damned Arch Ranger!" Severus growled.

Tom smirked cruelly. "Way ahead of you, Prince."

A Shadow Shifted VolDeMort raced through the ground for two seconds, reappearing near enough to the archer. Normally, this would be a stupid move, as Shadow Shift's cooldown was not short enough to make another escape, but he knew what he was doing. An easy bombard of spells finished her off for a third kill, though left him open to the two warriors. He pulled Prince to him with an effortless Aura Bind, allowing him to be healed, buffed, and shielded, then spinning around and snaring one warrior in the process.

Scarred ignored this one, leaping for the other who was behind the snared tank. Spells and strikes brought him down, though the kill went to the berserker who had finished him with a quick thrust of his sword. They consumed the tank next, who could do nothing without his team mates.

The match ended in four minutes.

Easing his tense shoulders, Harry leaned back and sighed. "Good match, guys," he said to his team. They echoed his sentiments to a degree, and he smiled when they were all teleported back to the waiting room. A couple of fights later they were done and a quick check of the clock showed that it was approaching midnight.

"I'm going to hop off," Harry yawned as he stretched.

A noise of assent came from Severus, who also bid his farewell. Before the student was able to exit the chat, however, Tom spoke. "Are you free this Saturday, imp?"

"Mm… Think so. Want more food or something?"

Tom snorted. "In fact, I do. Bring me some bread pudding."

"Sure, sure," Harry yawned again. "Noon?"

The other man nodded. "The local park."

"'Kay. Night Tom."

"Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

**Short-ish chapter, and nothing really interesting except the continuation of the tournament. **

**_Warning to all of my readers:_ It's that time I've been talking about. I'm cutting off daily updates, as I need to finish up summer homework and all my other things before school comes around again. I'm definitely not stopping updates, but they're not going to be every day anymore. Hope you all understand!**

**So... yeah. I got glowing reviews on last chapter's fight scene... and I hope I didn't disappoint anyone with this one. I honestly can't decide which one's better.**

**Got any questions or confusions that need to be cleared up? How about a couple comments that you just need to blurt? Please review or PM me with them, and I'll be sure to reply! If you review anonymously, I will not be able to answer you, so keep that in mind :) ****See ya'll next time.**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	10. The Player Behind VolDeMort

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**B**oring. Bland. Dull. Tedious. They were all words to describe how life was now, and all of them were accurate. Tom Marvolo Riddle lived a life of ease these days, work becoming repetitious to his genius mind. He was quick and competent, finishing before pressure could build. There was no danger, no intrigue, and no sudden mysteries popping up to keep his mind busy. One would think, considering his unruly past, that he would wholeheartedly embrace this life style.

They would be dead wrong.

Even chess, one of his favorite games when he was a child, no longer held his interest. Only he would prove a challenge to himself, and he had played alone countless times before. It didn't matter; he would win anyways. What was the point?

Simple, there was none.

On the familiar rainy days that came up along the way, Tom would fall into a state of nostalgia. It was mixed with a constant dislike and a reluctant fondness, for he would remember the two who had brought him out of his rut. He did not think upon them often, but when he did, Tom would remember the calm sprinkle of rain water upon his face, and a slow, warm, creeping feeling that wormed its way into his heart.

He would be seated in a plush chair, the black chess pieces his minions and the white his enemy. They matched the man sitting across from him, who was so old there was no longer a hint of his ginger hair left. He was grey, but the twinkling eyes and the smiling lips told only of a celestial being who worked for justice. There would be challenge, intrigue, as Tom played his way as an advocate for the dark. The outcome of a game was never sure, either for him or for the old man sitting across from him.

Laughter, rich laughter from the side, as one of them lost and the game started once more, would sound often in his thoughts. They came from the old man's lover, a couple who defied so many different odds. Their attraction was strange, but constant. Sometimes, he too would be on the other side of the chess board, sometimes white and sometimes black, but the challenge he supplied was just the same.

Though the days had been hard, full of distrust and denial, Tom had been comforted in the odd, familiar ways of the two.

Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, his adoptive parents, and human in their mortality. They died hours within the other's death, and Tom had been left alone once more.

Sometimes, when the rain stopped and the clouds remained, he wondered how things would've ended up if the two hadn't brought him up out of that orphanage. Would he have become a tyrant? A street urchin? Would he have stolen, done despicable deeds, stepped over hundreds of people to get to the top? Or would his genius have eaten him alive, barbaric without the old knowledge of the two wizened men to temper it?

Would he have preferred that life, compared to this easy, comfortable, luxurious, and terribly uninteresting life now? He had graduated high school, and consequently college, earlier than his peers. There was no one he could relate to.

But these thoughts, too, were useless. Nothing would change, even if he found the answer to his questions. He was above everyone else, without a companion to stand by his side or speak to. He paid the troubles of daily life for others no heed, seeing no reason or advantageous consequence if he stepped in.

Because he was above everyone else, he never interfered. There was no reason to.

There was also no reason to fear death any longer, unlike when he had been a child who worried that it would seek for him any day. Through the trauma, the held tears, the scars and the bruises, he had survived. But for what price? He had lost the meaning of life, so close within a child's innocent grasp… but he had never been innocent either; perhaps when he was just a babe but no longer. Tom Riddle was alive, but he wasn't quite sure if he lived. Death did not actively seek those who have not lived, and only took those who were alive like an afterthought.

It was after one of these days, the nostalgic, rainy days, that he stepped out onto the streets, no particular reason in his mind except for the movement of his body. Grey clouds hung overhead, but he strode forward unbothered by them while others clung tightly onto their jumpers, heads bowed low. He did not care much for the weather, either.

Ahead of him was a bakery, sweet and enticing smells calling to the patrons who walked by. Many stopped to make a detour there, hoping for warm bread to deter the chilly winds. A couple came and went, and next a group of teenage girls went in. A minute later, a young boy strode out, though he was short and build so slight that Tom had almost mistaken him for a female.

Tom did not know why, but he stopped and watched.

The boy wore a baggy coat over him, most likely not his own. In his hands, he clutched a plastic bag, most likely filled with treats. He looked to his left, and then to his right, coincidentally locking eyes with Tom's. Brilliant green eyes met his blue, and Tom wondered how the shade was even possible. They were deep, deeper than a normal, _average_ person's eyes. There was wonder, intrigue, caution.

Almost hesitantly, the boy nodded to him, and then turned and stepped forward to cross the crosswalk with a group of other people. He merged into the crowd seamlessly, neutral colours blending in and camouflaging him. Tom paused for a few seconds, and then walked onwards. Instead of walking right past the popular bakery, he pushed open the doors, intent on a dark chocolate mousse.

He was inspired to find some entertainment again.

A week later after the incident with the boy, Tom Riddle walked down the streets once more. He passed the bakery, passed a café, passed a small diner that a party of six glided into, and passed several street lamps before coming to a stop. In an electronics shop, a flat screen television that was on sale played a commercial with flashing lights and sounds of battle.

_Chambers of Secrets Online_…

Perhaps he'd try it.

Two weeks later, a relatively new player was teleported into Hogsmeade village, intention being a second job advancement to the Dark Wizard class.

Two months later, the player VolDeMort had his first encounter with an absurdly lucky Swords Master. They did not get along too well at first, but managed.

A year later, their coincidental run-ins with the priest HBPrince finally made it to the point where he was accepted into the team with minimal difficulties. VolDeMort had also made it known that Scarred was oddly nice to everyone, which meant _no_, _you are not receiving any special treatment_.

Roughly six months after that, Tom found himself interrogating Prince for information about his berserker's family (he knew much more about Harry than Prince ever could, but his family somewhat eluded him), which was an ironic twist to the whole predicament. It ended with both parties being less than satisfied.

And, now solidly in the future… well, Tom was pretty sure Harry would figure it out. He was a smart boy after all, the former affectionately mused. All of his predictions had come to pass with little to no problems, and soon it would be checkmate. Nothing would deter him from winning _this _particular game, even if it meant pretending that he had lost. And the prize that all made it worth it?

Living; preferably with one Harry Potter.

* * *

**Yep. Some of you saw this coming, and some of you didn't. We finally get Tom's semi-sorta back story! Honestly? I was debating between Tom and Severus, and Tom just won out. Too bad it's so short word-wise, but content-wise it's rich and savory! Have fun with your imagination, guys :)**

**Comments? Questions? Confusions? Send a review or a PM my way so I can clear that up for you. I'll answer in as much detail as I can; but beware! Anonymous reviews I can't answer to ): Please log in before sending a review if you have a question!**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	11. Quest IX: Be My Hero, My Villain

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**B**reakfast in the Potter household was, in comparison to their other meals, a calm affair. The boisterous men were still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, and when they weren't, they were preoccupied with filling their stomachs up with the food laid out before them. Conversation was slight, though still there, and chatter was kept at a minimum.

"Do any of you mind if I head out today?" asked Harry when the big appetites of his father and godfather were, for the most part, appeased. His family turned to look at him in surprise, as Harry really didn't _go out _with his friends or anything like that. When he did go, it was for a nice stroll around the neighborhood, or to pick up something from the store, or some other errand he needed to run; things like that. He also didn't go in the morning or afternoon—usually he left at about 5PM and returned fifteen to thirty minutes later. Simple.

"I don't have a problem with it," Lily supplied. Her answer was, for the most part, echoed by the rest of his family.

Harry smiled in return. "I'll be off at noon then, and be back before dark. Is that alright?"

"Just fine, son," James replied, "Though I have to wonder… Are you going out on a date?"

"Aw, Prongs!" Sirius whined, "I wanted to ask that!"

Tilting his head to the side, the youngest of the occupants wrinkled his nose. Of course he wasn't going out on a date! A date with… well, Tom? Ridiculous, right? Harry wasn't quite sure where his preference lied—he hadn't ever really dated, either—but he was _sure_ that what he was doing was just meeting the other man at the park. Simple. Okay, he would bring some food, and they would probably eat it there, but that did not classify it as a—wait, _was it a date_?

Slightly horrified at the turn of his thoughts, Harry vehemently shook his head. "No. Definitely not a date. Not at all," he denied. As if hearing it made it all the more truthful, his thoughts managed to reorganize themselves. Yes, he was not going on a date with Tom. They were good friends, and the man was unlucky enough to fail at cooking no matter what he did, and Harry couldn't exactly help it if his pastries were better than most bakeries, right? Remus' being the exception, of course…

Remus chuckled, amused. "That's quite a furious denial you've given us there, Harry," he pointed out.

"Ooo… is someone getting _defensive_?" Sirius teased along with his friend.

"No!" And the blush that coloured his cheeks certainly didn't say anything, either. "I'm just… not going on a date. That's—that's preposterous. I'm not even dating someone." Not to mention, the idea of dating _Tom _was even more absurd. The man was ten years his senior! Not that age or gender would matter to him if he found someone he liked… But the bottom line was that they were good, close friends. _Friends._

James chuckled along with the other marauders. "Right, I'm sure you're not, son. But if you ever happen to meet a little lady, feel free to bring her home to meet the parents, alright?"

"James," Lily scolded, though her lips twitched as she fought the urge to smile. "Though… that is right Harry. If you ever get a girlfriend—"

"Or boyfriend," Sirius chimed in.

"Or boyfriend," continued Lily with a roll of her eyes, "we'd love to meet him or her."

Harry groaned. "I'm not dating anyone."

"Of course you're not, son," his father cheerfully said, trying to keep the mockery out of his voice.

Sighing, he ignored all the jibes and pokes that his family sent his way, his mother being the exception as she did not participate in the "good fun". Maybe this was karma for fighting against them so mercilessly a few days ago… Noon could not come fast enough.

When it did come, of course, Harry left the house with his precious cargo of bread pudding. This time, he had made sure to put in _two _forks. A repeat of last time, though amusing, probably wouldn't be a good idea. He hummed a random tune, walking out the door and completely missing the curious looks of his family members.

Arriving at the park, he checked his watch only to realize he was three minutes early. He wondered if Tom was already here, waiting somewhere. _In fact…_ Scanning several benches, Harry saw an old woman feeding the birds with her husband, a jogger with earphones in his ear, several people out walking their dogs, a man with his head buried in a newspaper, another man reading a book, several ladies gossiping enthusiastically among themselves, a group of four having a picnic, and the normal, everyday visitors of the park taking a walk.

All and all, there was really nothing out of the ordinary. Harry shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips as he made his way to the bench where the man reading a book sat. He was wearing a black hat, and two containers sat idly by his side, looking much like a Starbucks coffee cup, only they were without the iconic brand's symbol. His head was ducked low; face somewhat obscured as he focused on the reading material that was held out in front of him by his hand.

"Camouflage, Tom?" he teased as he plopped down into the wooden seat.

"That better be bread pudding," the man remarked calmly.

Harry grinned fondly. "It is," he confirmed.

Sighing, Tom closed his book without marking his place and reached over on his right, opposite the side his companion sat on. He then turned back to Harry, a cup in hand, and practically shoved it in front of his nose.

"Compensation," was Tom's only explanation, concise and brisk like his personality.

Nevertheless, Harry beamed and eagerly grabbed the cup, drinking it without even asking what it was. The deliciously sweet taste of _actually hot_ hot chocolate filled his mouth, and he hummed at the flavor. "Thanks," he said after taking a long sip. "And just so you know, I've brought two forks this time."

"Oh, drat," Tom deadpanned, "I was thinking of grabbing the box and walking away. Looks like I'll have to stay now, what with no use for a second fork." He mock sighed, though it sounded quite real, and Harry pouted.

"What, were you going to take your chance while I was consumed by this wonderful hot chocolate?"

"How something so sweet is wonderful to you, I will never understand," he solemnly replied, "But yes, that was the gist of the plan."

"If you're going to apply for job of super evil villain any time soon," Harry began, "You'd pass with the first interview. What with your speeches about your diabolical plans, you'd do great! The only thing I would recommend is making them a bit longer, like a… like a monologue."

Tom snorted. "Because evil villains just aren't the same when they don't monologue?"

"Exactly," Harry nodded his head enthusiastically. "You see, to succeed as an evil mastermind you must have a speech pre-made in your mind, because you're a mastermind and all, see, you'd obviously have thought of this. Can't let everyone down, can you? What would your minions say? Anyways, once you have a monologue prepped, it should be full of random twists to make the audience feel bad for you."

"But if I was a villain, hypothetically speaking, why would I need that?"

Harry shrugged. "No, you'd be an _evil _villain and, well, adds the dramatic flair, right? Then again, you could add in the theatrics without hoarding the public's pity, but most bad guys go this route. Grab their pity, grab their support. And, if by some absurd reason you're caught, play up on it and they might just let you go."

"Hmm," Tom stared at the younger calculatingly, "Play up on their human weaknesses? But what if, in telling them some twist that deserved their pity, you also revealed the route to _your_ weakness instead?"

"That's true," he agreed, tapping a finger to his chin ad and frowning lightly, "If it's true, it'd make it all the more believable, and the more believable it is the more likely you are to connect with them and draw them to your side… Frankly speaking, if the hero was smart you'd be screwed. But, on the other hand, if the hero was some kind, good-hearted soul, probably a martyr, you'd rally _their _unconditional pity, too. Would become the whole kiss you kill you thing, y'know?"

"'Kiss you kill you'?" deadpanned Tom.

"An exaggeration of the entire "I can't kill you, you're a human just like me deep down inside! Instead, because my life is worth so little, here take it so you can live to redeem yourself!" and the rot. Honestly? A lot of heroes out there are like that. If you ran into the right one, you'd probably get off scot free and manage to dominate half of the world before another one notices you and tries to shut you down."

The older man raised his brow. "Were you looking to apply as an evil villain some point in your life?"

Harry laughed. "Well, not really, but I can go either way to be honest. Hero, villain, really; it's all relative."

"And as a hero, would you be that "kind, good-hearted soul" who would martyr themselves for the world… and consequently the villain?"

"Dunno," he shrugged, "Depends on my circumstances. Can't say I'd willingly off myself now; maybe in another life. And I'd figure if I _did _want to martyr myself, I'd probably try to bring down the big bad villain with me, or leave someone with specific instructions on how to finish the job."

"Hand over the bread pudding, imp," Tom idly said. "And the villain? Would _you _go for the kiss-you-kill-you? I can imagine you becoming incredibly sympathetic to the cause if you were up against the right villain."

"Sympathetic, maybe…" Harry trailed off, putting the box in between them so they could both eat and talk, "It really does _depend _though. I mean, if I'm firmly on one side, and I suddenly become incredibly sympathetic to the other, maybe I'd have this whole crisis inside of me. I can't see myself leaving everyone that I know and love for the other side, no matter how I feel about the villain, though it also depends on my loved ones. If they, say, suddenly backstabbed me and have fooled me for my entire life, I'd probably be really angry. Enough to switch sides, maybe; or I might just make my own side and off both the good _and_ bad guys. Dunno."

"That's interesting. Make your own side?" Tom asked as he popped a piece of Harry's baking inside his mouth. "But who would be on it? You'd only be one person, and up against your former side and the side that's been trying to kill you for who knows how long? Wouldn't that be… absurdly dangerous?"

"That's where the good part comes in," Harry commented as he tried to find a more comfortable seating position on the wooden bench, "See, I'd probably be _so _angry, that I could off some of the other guys in my rage before they did me in. Or, well, I could go the roundabout route and make an alliance with one, off the other, and backstab the guys who helped me. Equally risky, but I'd be so angry I wouldn't really care. Sometimes I get reckless like that, y'know? Both ways, I win in some degree, and that'd be enough for me. When I'm dead, it wouldn't really matter, would it?"

Tom hummed. "You still haven't answered my original question. _Would you _go for the kiss-you-kill-you?"

"It's… It's not _impossible_," he began slowly, "but I'd imagine that evil mastermind must be _incredibly, knock your socks off _badass to get me to off myself for him. Hell, I'd probably only do it if I had some knowledge about him beforehand, or maybe even known him then. Or maybe if I was able to connect with him in some way, know his thought processes and things like that. I wouldn't do it if I was unsure of the consequences is what I'm trying to say…"

They both took a few bites before the conversation continued.

"Besides," Harry said, "I'd imagine the villain I would have to go up against would be really… broken. Someone smart, almost _too smart _for their own good, and not all there. They'd be unable to feel correctly, and that'd probably get my pity… sympathy, whatever. Point is, even if I magically fell in love with them one day, who's to say they'd be able to love me back? I'd get nothing for it; they'd have been gone too long, too far away, too deep inside themselves to return any feelings I have for them."

"But you'd still love them," Tom cut in, "And as little as I know about actual people, I know _you_. You'd still care, still have that annoying little piece of hope in you, and probably wouldn't be able to do the deed no matter what _anyone_ says."

"Caught me there," he agreed, smile sort of awkward. "You're right. I'd probably still hope and pine. Dunno if I could actually do it, would depend a lot on the environment I'm in, but if I did have to off them… I'd probably go down along with."

"You did say that the villain would be smart," pointed out Tom, "what if you didn't have the ability to bring them down?"

"Oh, I'd try," Harry laughed, still sort of awkwardly but really _laughed_, "I'd use all the underhanded tactics that you'd never see come from any other hero. All of the things in the books and out of 'em, and who knows, I might even become a villain myself to do it. If I really did care… was really determined… can't say I can see anything stopping me from doing the deed. It's just… I'd probably be really reluctant when the time comes."

His companion smirked. "But you're good under pressure, and eventually you'd do what you came to do, right?"

Harry nodded. "Right."

Tom shook his head lightly. "That poor villain never stood a chance."

Scowling, the teen used his own fork to shove a piece of bread pudding into his companion's mouth. "Oh, shush you."

As revenge the offensive jab, no matter how delicious it was, Tom took the liberty of actually stealing Harry's fork, pulling away the hand that held it and taking ownership. This caused the latter to huff, grabbing Tom's fork in return. They ate like this in companionable silence, occasionally having shorter and smaller conversations in between. Coffee and hot chocolate was drunk, the pudding devoured… Life was good.

"Speaking of good and evil," Harry said at one point, "What side would you be on, Tom?"

Cocking his head to the side, Tom studied the teen who was sitting beside him. "What… side?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "The good guys or the bad guys; that type of thing. I can't really see you being all hugs and friendship bracelets, but it doesn't _have _to be the stereotypical rainbow-and-unicorns type of good either."

The man snorted at his companion's descriptions, contemplating the question instead. "…I don't think I would be on either side," he finally answered, "I'm quite ambitious, as you know, and most of my tactics probably would not be received well on the "good"—as you put it—side. Then again, I find it hard to define evil as well."

"You do?" This time it was Harry's turn to tilt his head in confusion. "Why? Isn't it just the opposite of good?"

Tom shook his head. "It's all very subjective," he explained. "One person's good might be another's evil, and "good" always happens to be the victor's side, whether or not they used to be "evil" or not. History is written by the victors, and if I happened to win, the public would want me to stand as "good" to reassure themselves of living on the "right" side. In the end, there is no good and evil, right or wrong; all that is left is power and the people who do or do not possess it."

"But we know that, say, killing, is morally wrong," Harry argued, "How can one argue that it's right?"

"By giving a motive, or a reason," Tom said patiently. "If someone was going around offing others, you'd want to shut him down, wouldn't you? So, inevitably, he would be, and people would consider it "right". Even when using the law, his fate is quite clear, and the only way he wouldn't get the death sentence is if someone high up the ladder wanted him to live."

"And if I were to stick my hand in a fire?" asked Harry.

"You'd have a motive for it—whether it would be idiotic or not. For example, if you stuck your hand in the fire now, you'd be doing it for the sole purpose of proving me wrong. Generally speaking, a person's view on whether it's right or wrong depends on if it hurts them or not. Fire burns your hand when it touches you, so you consider it wrong. It wouldn't be advantageous to you if you did it; you wouldn't gain anything, so you think it's better if you ought not to do it."

"But what if you didn't have a reason?"

Tom paused before answering. "For the human mind, there is always a reason. Others may think it is an act of spontaneity, but you would know better, unconsciously or not. We are beings of rational thought, and we use it no matter how hard we can try not to," Tom took a breath, his eyes staring no longer at Harry or even their surroundings, but somewhere distant. "Even if you were forced into the very depths of insanity, you would still find some twisted logic to rationalize your actions, whether it is to soothe an indescribable itch or to prove your superiority over your very own mind."

They were silent for a long while, Tom because he was lost in his thoughts and Harry because he recognized his companion's painful feeling of familiarity as he spoke. Finally, the latter cut through it by giving a small tug on the former's sleeve. The man turned and looked at him in veiled surprise, and Harry smiled shyly at the response.

"Walk with me?" he asked with a tone slightly unsure but without a stutter.

Tom drew in a shaky breath and nodded.

Harry arrived home as the sun was setting, bidding farewell to his friend at the front gate. They had plans to meet again at a later date, both with an unvoiced agreement to bring their share of treats. He had plans to bring a fudge cake next time, with the chocolate more bitter than usual for his companion's low sweets tolerance. All and all, he felt happy as he opened the front door, and was completely unsuspecting of his family's impromptu interrogation session.

Harry was whisked down into a couch, seated as his family surrounded him. They all had faces showing emotions of varying degrees, Sirius of course being the most enthusiastic and probably the mastermind of the whole situation. Remus and Lily had the calmest outlooks by far, with James sort of caught in the middle.

"Hi," he greeted cautiously, as if wary that his words might destroy a dam waiting to break loose.

Thankfully, it wasn't quite that time yet. "Hello," Remus replied, somewhat amused by the teen's caution.

"Uh… can I do anything for you guys, or are you just doing this for kicks?" Harry asked, and this was apparently the metaphorical ram to the door, as almost immediately his father and Sirius leapt upon him with questions.

"How was your date?"

"Who was the lucky lady?"

"Is she cute?"

"What did you give her?"

"Where'd you go for your date?"

Seeing her son look a little bit hopeless, Lily smiled and grabbed the two by the neck of their shirts. She pulled them back, giving her son more space to breathe, and then told them to sit on the couch like gentlemen.

Harry put a hand over his heart, breathing a bit deeper and savoring his air. Remus chuckled.

"I didn't go on a date," he said calmly after the two men put on disgruntled faces.

Sirius shook his head. "Harry, Harry, Harry… Of course you did. Please don't deny it."

At this, Harry raised a brow. "Oh, so shall I make up an imaginary girl and give her a name, describing our nonexistent date in full detail to satisfy you?" His words brought startled faces to the rest of his family, with the exception of his mother who knew exactly how sharp his tongue could be as of late. With his promises, Lily had received many opportunities to talk with her son, finding when they were deep into their conversation he would slowly become increasingly sarcastic. She didn't quite recall _that _part of his personality ever growing, so she wondered who _exactly _he had gotten it from.

It honestly reminded her a bit of Severus, though the raised eyebrow had a bit more of a flair than his did, and though he was Harry's chemistry teacher this year, that short time could not have possibly been able to influence him in any way, other than maybe developing a dislike for science. Nevertheless, it _did _amuse her, so she let it go. Sarcasm built character, anyways.

"Err… sorry, that was uncalled for," coughed Harry.

"You… really didn't go on a date?" asked James incredulously.

"No," he replied, "To my fullest knowledge, I have not gone on an outing with any male or female with an ulterior motive of intimate desire in mind. I also have not kissed, held hands with for a period of longer than five seconds, hugged, or slung my arm around anyone's shoulders and or waist in the last twenty four hours."

"That's Harry alright," he heard Sirius vaguely mutter to Remus. "For a second there, I almost thought he turned into Snivellus."

"_Sirius_," his mother scolded, having heard the last part. He cowered in the face of her irritation.

"Oh," James trailed off lamely. "Well… that's…"

"Just. Fine," Lily finished, voice steady as she ushered the men out of their seats. "Harry clearly hasn't gone on a date, and you're making fools of yourselves if you continue pressing a nonexistent matter."

Once they all left, Harry sent a grateful smile to his mother. "Thanks, mum," he said.

A knowing grin graced her lips. "Not a problem, dear."

Hours later and comfortably settled in his chair, Harry signed in to CoS with a nice, warm feeling of contentment. Nothing really bad had happened, and the day with Tom had ended quite well. "Hi guys," he greeted as he accepted the party invite.

"Evening, brat," Severus returned. Tom echoed the sentiments, and they all had light conversation before diving back into gaming mode again. Another night, another team to fight. Harry found himself licking his somewhat chapped lips. He grabbed a water bottle off to the side, downing almost half in one go.

"So, who's next?"

* * *

**Two chapters... in one day?! WOAH! Once again, some of you saw this coming (because I told you) while some of you didn't. That's just how it is. Technically speaking, this is compensation for having such a short last chapter (1k word count?!), even if it was a back story. **

**So you see, I haven't forgotten about you guys! I'm considerate! Right? ^_^; This is also the reason why I wanted to do Tom's story before Severus'... 'cause this chapter has more Tom.**

**So, Harry called it a meeting, less formally an "outing", Tom probably thinks it's snack time, and Harry's family assumed it was a date... before they got shut down. We, as the readers and writer(s), obviously know better. Was it a date? Well... if it was, then they went over hero vs villain, good vs evil, and took a walk where they_ probably_ talked about more lighthearted things, all on their first date. **

**As far as a first date goes, I'd give it a 7/10. Why 7 and not 4? They traded forks! That's three whole points right there! I've been trying to make that happen somewhere, and I was so angry with the dessert chapter cause stupid Tom wouldn't let Harry lick his fork after he used it. So that whole talk they had? Only filler to make them trade forks.**

**Wow; as the author, I don't think I should've told you that...**

**All jokes and teasers aside, James is really pissing me off, and not just in this chapter (though he certainly did). Maybe it's because I know of what's to come, so my irrational rage is warranted, but seriously... I don't want to write fight scenes anymore ): There are too many! Maybe I should just put in a small sentence referring to the outcome of the fights... Ugh. Two fight scenes in an AU story is pretty good, right? RIGHT?!**

**Sorry for this long-ass author's note. I'm making up for lost time. **

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	12. Quest X: Les Étranges

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**A** blinding, white flash of light was all Harry saw, but it held his attention only for a fraction of a second before his eyes flickered back to the main action. He swallowed, doing so merely for the reason that he _needed _to do _something_, and the saliva that built up in his mouth during the moments of high tension minutes ago was getting annoying. His hands were arranged strategically on the keyboard, and despite his inner turmoil, were steady in their automatic movements. Harry's reflexes were, if anything, very well developed.

But still, one resounding thought pulsed in his mind.

_Severus. Prince. Prince died._

The female player character that he was currently targeting managed to shift back, and he imagined the person behind the player cackling as she did so. They knew each other to an extent; not very well, but from the many battles that they had together. It was knowledge that one obtained after countless opportunities to learn their opponent's playing style in the heat of the moment.

Still…

_Fuck. Prince is dead._

Harry took deeper breaths, trying to focus on what was going on. If he panicked, this was over. It shouldn't be over. It wouldn't be over. He knew better than that, than this. No matter what, he couldn't lose his concentration. They wouldn't lose, they couldn't; not here. Not to this team, not to Les Étranges. Not to _them_.

With a tightly concentrated calm, Scarred continued their counter attack. With anyone else by his side, this probably wouldn't have been possible, not against _this_ team… but the berserker's synchro-play with VolDeMort was flawless; it was what the high rank players knew them for. No one could work with the dark lord as well as he could, and it was most likely true vice versa. Scarred had never tried with anyone else; all there was, really, was VolDeMort. He didn't mind.

Slice. Aerial attack. Dash. Feint. Strike. Bind. Dodge.

Harry swallowed again, and Tom 'tsk'ed. "Keep calm and carry on," the man reminded, seeming to be completely at ease.

"I know," he managed to mumble, and tried desperately to grasp back on to his focus. It wouldn't do to be defeated like this; Prince's presence wasn't compulsory for their team work, not like the other team's composition.

His nimble fingers struck the keys with a stronger jab than usual, but nevertheless remained constant in speed. His and Tom's teamwork was better, damn it! He'd never hear the end of it if they actually lost to Tinkerbella's team. The suggestion of it—to even think—ludicrous!

On screen, Tinkerbella shadow shifted to the side, managing to dive back behind the barrier of her two thieves as her health had taken a beating. They moved quickly, distracting; spamming any skills that did movement to confuse their enemies. Tauntingly, they moved in and out of range, at all times in a position to protect their team's dark lord classed player.

Harry's lips twitched. He was most definitely offended.

Completely ignoring the two, Scarred went in, fully trusting his darkness to watch his back. That was simply the type of player he was—dive in, get the kill, get out—and anyone who couldn't deal with that would loathe playing with him. He might not be the most defensive of players, but damn it, this was _his _area of expertise! Other players died doing what he did—this risky maneuver that looked idiotic on the outside, but was quite the stroke of genius when Scarred did it—and to hell if two thieves thought they could distract him from getting a kill!

Said players came in at the moment's notice that the berserker was going to give chase, their superior speed making it seem that they were going to get him.

No. Just _no_.

The second their quick speed skills were about to hit him, Scarred popped a Tumble Dive, rolling out of range and catching Tinkerbella by knocking her airborne with the after effect. It was a skill that took a bit more practice to be able to perform effectively, unlike the basic Skid Dash and Back. VolDeMort had known exactly what he was going to do, and had ignored the thieves in favor of becoming a thick, inky darkness that descended on the other dark lord and dealt a ridiculous amount of damage, also skimming the thieves in its short range. Added with the aerial attack bonus he had received, along with Scarred's Ecliptic Slice's bonus as well, Tinkerbella was down for the count.

Harry still wasn't satisfied. Blood needed to be shed; preferably that of InSanity and UnSanity. The two players got on his nerves more than Tinkerbella sometimes—and Tom was definitely all for Harry's timely bloodlust. The two thieves had the second highest attack speed in the game, tying for it, and their movement speed they boasted was unanimously considered _one of the highest_. Along with their skills that they spammed which made them look like a blur on the screen, fighting against them you could hardly score a hit. As an agility warrior and a dark lord specializing in attack speed, the thieves' mere presence was usually enough to irritate one of them.

"Which one you want first?" he politely asked his companion, licking his slightly dry lips.

Tom snorted. "Does it matter? I would like a double KO though," he added, almost like an afterthought.

Severus, who had remained out of the occasional tradeoffs ever since he had died, sighed. "At least your arrogance isn't completely unfounded."

"Don't worry, Sev," Harry said as he began the trap that would lead to the end of the fight, "We just want to take revenge for you... Do you know which one was the one who killed you off?"

"Right," Severus deadpanned, completely ignoring Harry's after-thought question which was obviously irrelevant. InSanity and UnSanity both dressed the same, and since they moved so quickly, running in a zig-zag formation that crisscrossed often, it was nigh impossible to tell who had gotten the kill.

As nonchalant as both Harry and Tom acted, they both knew the battle was far from over. Regardless, they would win, but that didn't mean the enemy couldn't grab another kill off of their team anyways. From the looks of it, the two thieves remembered to go after Scarred, who, though a warrior, generally would be easier to take down because of his currently half health, less utility skills, and not-so-beefy defenses as one of the berserker class.

Of course, the fact that Scarred was also one of the very few people who could actually catch their movements was another reason. Going after VolDeMort would only leave them vulnerable, though he would probably be a faster kill, while going after Scarred would be less of a risk.

Clearly, the Sanity twins were also one of the best chasers in PvP, having superior agility making them difficult to kite around. Scarred was doing a decent job with all things in consideration, but they were still getting hits off of him like no tomorrow, something that wasn't supposed to happen during kiting. Using the Boomerang skill, he was able to rally back and forth between the two when they were within range, which wasn't often as they just hit and backed off almost immediately. It was a vicious cycle, one than spun in the thieves' direction. VolDeMort was unable to pinpoint them, depending on his purely AoE skills instead which were not all too great. He was more of a one-person burst, what with his quick-speed attacks, but this was rendered useless when he couldn't aim at them unless Scarred was rallying.

His health whittled down to just a chip more, Scarred prepared himself. He stopped his movement, spinning around to face his opponents as they came at him with lightning speed. The Sanity twins released bursts of power at him, sacrificing their backs to VolDeMort to bring down Scarred. As the last sliver of his health was about to fade, the berserker activated his Heart of Will skill, something he used scarcely through the tournament. As the two were completely caught unawares, it had paid off, and he began his counter-attack.

The two thieves continued their assault, not quite registering why the berserker had yet to die. Their backs were fully revealed to VolDeMort now, who managed to get their health down to a bit over a quarter before they finally moved to retreat.

Too late.

The dark lord threw a combination of stuns and binds at the two, catching them with his legendary attack speed. They were completely immobile where the stood, and close enough so Scarred was able to rally between the two, though choosing to pop a Ferocious Aura beforehand just to knock them down to slivers.

"Wait," Tom suddenly said.

Harry, startled, quickly shot him a what-is-it-at-this-time-of-the-match look.

"I want a double kill," replied Tom in a tone that screamed 'obviously!'

"Fine," he huffed, and Skid Back'd away so the players could clearly see how VolDeMort would be the one to kill them. Kills really meant nothing to Harry, he figured as long as they were gone it was one less player to deal with.

The Sanity twins were forced to watch, helplessly stunned, as the dark lord killed them both… with a barrage of fireballs.

"You're a jerk," claimed Harry as he watched the two thieves disappear into flashes of light.

Severus tried to cover up his snort of agreement, failing horribly at it.

"Poetic justice," the dark lord justified. No one had to ask what he meant; it was quite obvious that VolDeMort had just shoved the fact that his attack-speed was superior in their faces, also quite possibly revenge for making his berserker use his Heart of Will skill. Never mind the fact that it was in Scarred's moveset for a reason, of course.

Back in the waiting room map, Deathly Hollows watched as Les Étranges stalked up to them, like they did after every match.

"_You haven't changed a bit, my lord!" _Tinkerbella declared as a greeting upon sight of VolDeMort, _"Your skills are just as amazing as they were last time! And those fireballs!"_

The unanimous team eye-roll was never commented on.

"_But your sage doesn't deserve you," _she continued, _"he's too squishy. Doesn't know how to survive at all. Useless support. Doesn't do much damage either."_

"Because the word _support _doesn't mean anything to that woman," Severus growled aloud.

"Look on the bright side," Harry comforted, "At least she didn't call you a priest. And we love you on our team Sev, you're a great support."

Interrupting their team mate's ranting, the two thieves spoke up. _"Well played as always, Scarred," _drawled UnSanity.

"_Bit jealous that you're not on our team, with what the great eyesight you have," _piped up InSanity, _"Still won't join us?"_

"_He's mine," _VolDeMort practically hissed. The two thieves always asked for Scarred to join their team after they fought, and it was no different today.

"_Our berserker is also not for sale," _Prince claimed, predicting their next question.

"_Sorry," _said Scarred, aiming to be a bit more polite than his teammates, _"I quite like my team."_

"_A disappointment," _said UnSanity, _"But not entirely unprecedented…"_

"_Whenever you get tired of them, you'll always be welcome with us!" _finished InSanity.

"…_Thanks for the offer. I don't think I'll take you up on it though."_

"_Let's meet again, my lord!" _Tinkerbella cheerfully bid, _"Next time we meet, make sure to replace your sage so we can have a proper team battle!"_

"Can we kill her again?" snarled Severus immediately after their leaving.

"They already left, Sev," recited Harry dutifully, just like he always did.

"Thankfully, my headache has also taken leave," sighed Tom as he leaned back into his chair. "That was our last match of the night."

The teenager of the group cocked his head to the side in thought. "Wanna do something then?"

"…You're not going to let me rally a defaming on them, are you brat?" asked Severus rhetorically.

"Nope."

"Enough," commanded Tom, "I don't want to hear another word of Les Étranges. They irritate me on far too many levels."

"Thought you've always secretly liked Tinkerbella calling you "my lord" though," commented Harry thoughtfully.

"Imp, my previous threats probably have not made too big of an impact on you, but one thing has changed from then and now," the resident dark lord said in a deadly calm voice, "I know where you live."

Harry pouted, but said nothing. Conflicting thoughts filled his head. On one hand, it was extremely likely that Tom would follow through with any threat he made, and it was only more dangerous now that real life had come into play. Of course, on the other hand Harry was pleased that the man would even make such a threat. Not to mention, if he followed through with it… He mentally smiled. It also meant that Tom remembered where he lived.

Severus raised a brow. "Do you now?"

"Oh yes, I'm actually surprised at the close distance," Tom answered conversationally.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed. It isn't more than a couple of blocks."

"How very curious."

"Curiouser is that Harry also knows where I live, and has walked there before."

"Oh? _Do tell_."

Suddenly, Harry got the foreboding feeling that they weren't exactly having a nice conversation. Severus' tone sounded far too light and airy, calm in nature. It lacked the undertones of a bite that usually accompanied his words, and Harry couldn't remember the last time he used it... though what he did recall was thinking the phrase "calm before the storm". Tom was also sounding too conversational, almost as if…

Wait.

Was Tom bragging? What the hell?

Somewhat freaked out, Harry decided to just stop the whole conversation. He didn't like where this was going. "…Guys?"

"Yes, Harry?" Right. Tom really was sounding too… chatty. Tom never sounded chatty. Was he missing something?

"Still here," Harry offered in an attempt to disrupt the way this was going without necessarily doing anything.

After a moment, Severus inclined his head. "So you are," he replied.

Inwardly, the teen sighed in relief. That random conversation was over, and he wasn't even sure what it was implying… if it was implying anything. It was really out of their scope of conversing; nothing like that had happened before. Perhaps it was… no. He would just pretend that had never happened, because it was too confusing to even think about. He didn't know what was going on between the two, as everything honestly seemed fine before, so he wasn't even going to broach the subject.

Some minutes passed by, and as the team idly moved about to their normal farming grounds, the regular conversation began to flow easily again. Any residual tension was gone, and there didn't seem to be any animosity between the dark lord and sage anymore… whether there was or there wasn't any to begin with.

Harry wondered if he imagined the whole thing. That was just too weird.

After a good night's sleep, school didn't sound too bad. Rather, it would be a couple of mindless hours of work to keep his mind off of things. Harry liked to be distracted from his thoughts sometimes; whereas most students thought of school as a tedious though necessary stop, he figured it was more like a break.

After all, you just listened to the teachers feed you the notes. Textbook reading was by far the more boring activity. Then again, Harry didn't get out all too often. Fun activities with his friends outside of school were rare and few, more likely to not happen at all during a year unless someone's birthday party popped up and they decided to invite him. He personally didn't mind either way—the solitary style somewhat fit him—and whenever he did yearn for human contact… well, there was always his boisterous real life family and his snarky and sarcastic in-game friends.

It didn't get any more convenient than that.

"How have you been, Harry?" Luna's sweet voice called from behind him. He was at the library again, naturally, and so turned to greet her in a quiet tone.

"I'd think you'd be the best one to answer that, Luna," Harry replied.

"Nonsense," she smiled, "If you don't feel happy, then there would be no meaning to whatever I can feel."

"Mind telling me anyways so I can have something to say?"

Luna tilted her head to the side, staring at him with a dreamy expression on her face. Something in her eyes flashed, causing her smile to grow even wider. "You've been very pleased lately. I think something good has happened? The wrackspurts have been staying away lately, or so they say, but occasionally they do come to check up on you. More often than not, however, they're hanging about Professor Snape."

_Severus? _Harry blinked owlishly and made motion to ask her a question about his friend but was cut off by another voice.

"Snape? What about him?" Ron Weasley asked as he walked quickly towards their table. Hermione and Neville trailed behind him a slight ways.

"The wrackspurts," Luna replied, normal ditzy expression back on her face. "They seem to be very attached to him lately. I can't seem to figure out why."

Weasley was jabbed in the ribs by his girlfriend for his muttered "Gee, I can't imagine…"

"Professor Snape is going through some problems, then?" asked Neville as he instantly came to stand next to her.

"I suppose he is. I hope the Nargles haven't targeted him; they get oh so playful with the wrackspurts and often forget their manners." Harry stayed silent. He gave the blonde a considering look, and she turned to smile at him. "Perhaps you know why, Harry?"

Completely bewildered, Weasley was quick to say "What? Why would Harry know why Snape's in the slums?" and then, as if utterly pleased by the thought, he turned to Harry and asked "You… did you do something to him, mate? Screw up his paper piles? Stole some of his books? Man, I hope you gave that git hell—"

"Ron, it's not nice to speak of a teacher that way!" scolded Granger.

"Aw… Hermione… You have to admit, Snape's a right bastard, even to you!"

Her eyes softened slightly, but then hardened back as she pursed her lips. "Yes, well… it's still very rude. If Professor Snape is going through problems, we shouldn't be… pleased. And Harry would never do any of those things, would you Harry?"

"No," he absently agreed with her. "… Why would you think I knew something about his mood, Luna?"

She smiled, placing a finger to her lips in the universal 'shh' signal. "Don't tell anyone," began Luna in an even quieter tone, "but the wrackspurts have told me that he's been looking at you when you're not looking. It's quite hard for me to tell what he's feeling, you know that, but I'm getting a vague sense of worry."

"Snape? Worried for Harry?" Weasley rolled his eyes. "Right, and I'm student council president."

"That is sort of sketchy, Luna," Granger slowly said, her eyebrows knitted together in thought. "Professor Snape hasn't held anything but contempt for Harry since he started the class… and even before."

"But he's friends with your mum, isn't he Harry?" Neville asked, trying to help solve the mystery as well. "Maybe she's the one actually worried about you?"

Harry cocked his head to the side. "No… we've been getting along fine lately… Hmm… One second." He turned around to rummage in his bag. If Luna said something completely free of her own will, you listened to her. Usually to get information like that, you'd need to ask, but she had freely told him about Severus. Something was up, and though he usually wouldn't do this, the thought of Severus being worried and distracted while he could try and do something to fix it just didn't sit right with him. If he could help his friend, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

So, with this in mind, Harry finally found his cell phone and began to text the only person who might have a clue on what's going on.

His friends stopped their discussion and stared at him in a sort of vague sense of disbelief. "You… you text?" Weasley blurted out. His girlfriend looked equally surprised, and Neville had looked shocked for a second before he looked down in embarrassment at his actions.

"Yes," Harry idly answered, continuing to type out his message with the quick, smooth movements of his thumbs.

_Sev's acting odd. You know what's up?_

"W-who are you texting, Harry?" Granger asked, face one of curiosity as she got over her surprise.

"A friend," he answered nonchalantly. He and Tom had exchanged phone numbers the last time they met, finding it a convenience even if they _did _meet every night anyways. Occasionally they would text or call each other in their free time, mostly Tom being the initiator as he was the one with the job. They had found a constant pace of meeting each other every Saturday or Sunday, usually the former but occasionally the latter if Tom was forced away, though it didn't happen often. Both of them were quick about replying, unless they were caught up in something. It was lunch time, so Tom should answer back soon enough.

True to his word, he did. Harry's phone lit up with the new message notification, and his friends wore looks of morbid curiosity. He would've found the situation entirely ridiculous or maybe even a little funny if he wasn't so worried about Severus.

…_Odd?_

_Yeah. Apparently he's been looking at me worriedly, according to a friend. You didn't do anything… you-like, did you?_

_Imp, I'm offended by your lack of faith. What do you mean "you-like"?_

_Blackmail, threats, cruel teasing, exaggerating or twisting the truth, diabolical plots… threats. I'm pretty sure you and Sev are on good terms, and anything you dish out probably won't affect him as much as it would a normal person, but remember the first week he was on our team? You were downright cruel on video chat, even if he wasn't on it._

_I haven't done any of the mentioned to Prince. And, since it's you, I will tell you that he's fine. Don't worry about it, imp._

…_Why does that not make me feel any better?_

_Because it wasn't supposed to._

_Jerk._

Harry sighed, giving it up as a lost cause and tucking away his cell phone. If Tom said not to worry, most likely that meant he was being discreet. However, this time he had also said that Severus was "fine"… he wasn't sure whether or not this mattered, actually. Tom liked to twist definitions to his advantage, and he did so with a smooth consistency that made you think it was like breathing for him. Perhaps he should talk to Severus… though his teacher wasn't the type of man to get bullied, Tom could be vicious.

The only reason he was worried about the two anyways was the strange conversation he had heard. They had been at odds then, which usually didn't happen… in fact, their relationship was quite tame, all things considered. It had mellowed out as time had passed and Tom grew to be more comfortable having another person besides Harry there.

If Severus was worried for him, enough to actually steal glances at him when he wasn't looking, Harry knew something was wrong. Tom had just confirmed that he knew something was up—and exactly what the something was—which probably meant he was the indirect or direct cause of it. Either that or both of them were concerned about one single thing, but with that conversation factored in...

And because he was their teammate, somehow he had gotten roped into everything. Harry bet if things continued like this, he'd have a killer headache by the end of the week.

The lunch bell rang and, bidding farewell to his still curious friends, headed towards class. He wondered how tonight would go.

* * *

**I didn't forget about you guys! I swear! In fact, several of my reviewers got the notice that I wouldn't be updating for awhile because I was cramming. And I spoke the truth. Now that my homework's done, I have school, so there will definitely be no return of daily updates in the future.**

**On to this chapter! Team Les Étranges means Team "The Strange". If you don't get who was in their team by now, it was Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan (Tinkerbella, UnSanity, InSanity, respectively). Originally, this wasn't even supposed to be a scene, but **Stilesque** asked for it and so... hey, what the hell. Might as well put in a chip of their fight, right?**

**THE PLOT ADVANCES! Tom and Severus but heads. You didn't really think their relationship was calm, did you? In canon, there were quite the subtle conflicts, what with Severus being a double/triple spy, so I wanted some of that to transfer over. Of course, this time their fight is about... well, if you haven't guessed it already you're quite dense. It's about Harry.**

**Ugh, I just couldn't decide on what to put in this chapter-sorry if it seemed choppy. Mainly, it's because I'm looking forward to writing the NEXT CHAPTER, which will be an extra (Cutscene 2X) that will have Tom and Severus in real life, talking. Yes. Talking. Excited yet? I know I am.**

**Anyways, I just really wanted to emphasize the fact that Severus came in second. And not even a close second... Tom was with Harry before Severus even popped up, even if they didn't really know each other as "Tom and Harry". Harry's relationship with Tom is sort of a mystery to Severus, and... well, you'll see. I'll do my best for the next chapter! Yeah... Long author's note.**

**Questions? Comments? Please review? I'll answer any issues you have in full detail-just shoot me a PM or review on the chapter with the problem! I won't mind! (Speaking of reviews, 60+?! You guys are spoiling me! [please keep doing it] I'd love to hit 100, guys...) Don't review anonymously unless you don't have any questions-I can't answer you if you're anonymous!**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	13. Quest XI: Cutscene 2X

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**S**everus moved smoothly along the street, passing by the other pedestrians with a gliding stride that unconsciously made others step aside for him. His presence was mostly ignored; no one stared or made a double take, but their bodies all moved to avoid him. That suited Severus just fine—he didn't want people bumping in to him constantly. Especially today—the man was probably already there—and Severus was never late. He was always prompt, not early but prompt.

The café he walked into was average size, not very popular but not ignored either. It wasn't any of the busy hours, so only a few people sat at the tables inside. A quiet hum of conversation greeted his ears, but Severus paid it all no heed. There was only one reason why he was here today. He took a glance at the occupied tables and, finally, his eyes landed upon the one he was looking for.

It was by the windows looking out onto the street, and Severus was sure the man saw him pass by. Though he was sure of this, the man paid him no heed. Didn't even look his way. There was only one cup at the table, and the man sitting at said table was clearly drinking from it.

Severus resisted the urge to frown. Instead, he strode over and took the opposite seat. As if by his own leisure, the man looked up a few seconds later, slowly and casually like the piercing dark eyes the professor had was no threat. No threat at all.

Severus was taken by surprise then, by the intensity of that stare. Blue eyes, showing nothing but not _just nothing_, looked at him unblinkingly. Severus stared back with just the same focus; if the man wanted a staring contest, fine. He was not expecting, however, the great amount of _presence _he felt when they finally locked eyes. It was _enormous_, screaming to be seen and _respected_. How had he not noticed earlier when he first entered? Had he been numb the second he walked in? Or, had he always been numb, and never truly felt until this very moment? The feeling scorched him, burned him and struck at him and buried the memory deep inside his conscious. He was being forced to carry this _memory_—this _feeling_—of inferiority for the rest of his life.

But _no_, he _had_ felt before. It was at the edge of his mind, tickling him insistently, wanting to be remembered. He had felt before—had felt joy, happiness, as a child right beside Lily. Lily, who had been his first love, and Lily whose son was now a treasured friend of his… yes, he had felt before. He remembered pain, and anger, and sorrow when he saw James hold her, and he remembered the humiliation he had felt when they had that terrible row. Severus had thought it had been all over—but no. It hadn't been. They had made up, and he remembered the irreplaceable feeling of _joy_, _joy _that he would not have to live without her.

And he remembered—oh, he _remembered_—the feeling of tired, accepting happiness as he attended the wedding where Lily Evans became Lily Potter. He re-felt it all, so very acutely, and regained his grip on reality again. He was Severus Tobias Snape. He would not falter, not here and now, and not in the face of the man in front of him. He had his dignity. With this in mind, he stood his metaphorical ground and continued to stare.

And Severus saw emotion in those blue eyes. There was emotion, but indiscernible to his normally well-versed knowledge. It was almost worse than emotionless—for at the _very least_ that didn't have the same _depth_ these eyes had. That, added with the _sheer amount_ of pressure on him, had him frozen in place. He did not move; not because he didn't wish to, and certainly not because he was trying not to, but because he _could not_. It was like the pressing of all different types of stares upon him—curious, wary, questioning, angry, all the rest—and Severus usually had no problem with that no matter what situation he was in, but it was as if the feeling was multiplied a hundred-fold now, _here_, until it was a loud, beating drum next to his ears.

He did not dare to try and swallow the saliva that was slowly building in his mouth. He would not give, not when this man wasn't even glaring. No, he just stared, and idly Severus wondered at how this was entirely different than through a monitor. His gaze had power, so much _pure_ power, and it radiated off the man in intensive waves. Who was he really?

Finally, the man slowly blinked and lifted his mug once again to his lips to take a sip. The spell was broken, and the pressure that had stabbed at him from every direction lessened a great deal. It was, however, still there; still powerful and horrifyingly superior. Severus felt like prey—a unique feeling for him—and the inner-animal in him was desperately trying to find if this danger was dangerous _to him_, because there was no question that it _was _dangerous, and there was no question about _who it was coming from_.

_Submit_, some part of his mind screamed at him, _submit! _

But he would not. He refused to. When had he gotten so reckless? _Only for that brat._

"I am Tom Riddle," the man said, voice smooth and quiet in its nature, but still so very _strong _and_ demanding_.

_Tom Riddle_, the name pulsed in his head. Severus did not dare to avert his eyes. "Severus Snape," he returned in his own tone.

From the back of his throat, Riddle hummed in acknowledgement. Severus was hyper alert, but did not move a muscle. Who was this really? He couldn't recognize him—this couldn't be VolDeMort. Not VolDeMort, who was always so kind to Harry in his own way. Not VolDeMort, who furiously guarded Harry the second he had found out that they knew each other beforehand. No, definitely not VolDeMort, the player he had found a certain kinship with. Who was Tom Riddle?

"As stiff as ever, aren't you?" Riddle murmured, "We _did_ mutually agree to this—to a meeting. Will you simply sit there, guarded with lips tightly shut? Defensive play will not work against _me_, Snape."

Severus stiffened even straighter. "You are VolDeMort," he stated, though they both knew it was for confirmation.

"And you are HBPrince," Riddle shot back casually. His eyes were glancing downward to the liquid in his mug, and he idly moved it with his wrist to roll the liquid around the edges of the mug. Then, as if Severus had kept him waiting, his blue eyes flickered to him in a sharp glance. It was as if it was a signal of some kind—a probe of pressure stabbed him everywhere and nowhere, as if to come back and strike him after a small break.

Finally, Severus gave in. Riddle was right—they wouldn't get anywhere like this. "I suppose, since we both mutually agreed to this, that we will make some progress?" he prompted, and immediately the pressure faded back again, though loomed distractingly at the edges of his mind in threat.

"Yes, well... Some things are better said face to face, _not_ through a camera. It _is_ about Harry, after all," Tom stated calmly.

He bowed his head in understanding agreement. Yes, this was about Harry. That was an undeniable fact.

"Perhaps you should begin with why you feel an irrefutable need to detest my involvement with him during the day hours?" Tom shot.

"What are your intentions toward him?" Severus returned immediately.

Riddle's expression shifted, though to what Severus did not know. "I am unsure," Tom finally said, "But I know I will not give him up."

"Truly?" the professor raised a brow in surprise, "You have no romantic inclinations toward him?"

"Whether it is romantic, or becomes romantic, or is neither is still within question," Tom replied, "I do not know what I intend to do, just that I refuse to leave."

"That is absurdly vague," he sneered.

"You seemed to have assumed a lot," Riddle retorted, "Perhaps you can humor me and tell me what you _thought _was going on?"

"It isn't like you didn't encourage it!" Severus snapped, "I dare say _you _are the cause, stringing me along like I was your puppet!"

His eyes flashed. "I did no such thing," Riddle said slowly with a deadly calm, "If there is anything pleasant I can tell you now, it would be that I hold a great deal of respect for you, Severus."

"You seemed to have contradicted yourself there," sneered Snape again, "I have not given you permission to call me by first name."

"So you have not," agreed Tom, but made no move to apologize. "How can I make it any clearer?"

"By holding the words that can easily be translated to something else," he replied without missing a beat. "As regrettable as it is to admit, that brat means a lot to me. I saw him first when he was just a babe, and now to find _you _with unknown intentions? Play someone else as the fool. You will not get around _me_."

"Most obviously," Tom said dryly. "Seeing as you refuse to listen to me, I will happily ignore your comment about fools. Thus, I will move on. My intentions are unknown to you _and _me; do not claim to be the victim."

"Nor should you," Severus snapped right back. "James Potter is an utter moron. He does no good for that child but he still insists that he is that brat's father. _You _could fool him without lifting a finger or raising a brow, so it is _my responsibility _to play the adult."

"Are you making me out to be the villain?" he asked, "How curious… Perhaps I shall try Harry's method on you then."

Severus' left eye twitched. "Do not play games!"

"I am not," Riddle said seriously. "You insist that I be put in a bad light. I have done nothing wrong, have never hurt Harry, and yet you continue to persist in pushing me into the role of a villain."

"…You have done nothing wrong," he agreed quietly, "but that does not mean doing so is beyond your reach."

"It is within everyone's reach," retorted Tom. "I am not singularly unique there."

"That is true… but it would be all too easy for you," Severus reluctantly replied. "We are… alike in most ways. I have the feeling that you, however, would find it all too simple to hurt him and walk away. You do not feel remorse as others do. Harry may have an undeniable… _charm_ about him, but that does nothing in this matter."

Riddle outright snorted. "_Nothing? Nothing you say? _Dear Severus, it does _everything_. You think I lie unaffected by that imp? That I am above the gods and therefore do not feel guilt if I hurt him? Perhaps you do not understand. Harry is _important to me_. He is of great import to both of us, and I assumed that is why we are both here."

"We are alike," Severus argued, "And I know myself. As we are both alike, I know that if you truly wished to, you would not feel the bitter shatter that someone else would feel if they broke him. Harry is still very much innocent. He is but a boy!"

"And on his way to becoming a man," replied Tom calmly. "We _are _alike, I will agree with you, but to be "alike" is not the same as being copies. We may be similar, but we are not the same. You know yourself and I know myself, such is that we can agree. You are right, however, in that if I truly wished it, I would not be as affected as someone else would be. However, I would not remain apathetic… you underestimate Harry himself."

"…What do you mean?" asked Severus after a while, "You have the ability. You are ambitious. You are the type of man who would use all that is within his abilities. There is no reason you would not; unless it did not give you gain. I refuse to take the risk with that brat."

"I mean," began Riddle quietly, "that I do not _want _to break him. Harry is as strong as he is fragile, and perhaps you think people such as I would take pleasure in shattering him. You are dearly wrong, my friend. I am singularly unique, and Harry's interests are mine."

"You speak of fairytales," he accused.

"We are unalike, Severus," Tom continued, "Perhaps when you were young, you wanted to break them. Break those who harmed you, spurned you, humiliated you. You hated, you hurt, and you wished for vengeance. Perhaps you obtained it, perhaps you did not. I do not know personally, and will probably never know. However, you and I are not the same. I have survived, and you have survived, but that is where all similarities end."

"You know nothing," Severus spat. "So what if I wished for them all to break? You have too. We have experienced it, and have been tempted to repeat our thoughts countless of times. We have been tormented, and harmed, and shot down by society's scum. I can see it reflected in your eyes—you and I are more alike than you speak of."

"I know _exactly _what I'm saying," said Riddle, "You are older in age than me, Severus, but I am years ahead in experience. You speak of hurt—of pain, of hunger, of rage—and I understand. You say you see, and I believe that. However, the eyes cannot view everything. You tamed the beast alone—unlike me. You tamed it, leashed it, tied it up and beat it into submission all by yourself. _I _had beast tamers."

"And you know what else?" he continued, "My beast is by far more vicious than yours. You have subdued it with memories and force—mine has gorged upon knowledge, ate until it could hold itself up no longer. It has been defeated by gluttony—a sin—and will not rise again _unless I will it to_."

Severus was quiet for awhile. "And you think," he started slowly, "that will be enough? Control? You might be singularly unique, but so is the brat."

Riddle shook his head then, as if amused. A light smirk played upon his lips, and a deep chuckle even made its way past. It was as if he found that statement was so ridiculous that it was hilarious to him, and Riddle just continued to shake his head with that knowing look in his eyes, completely ignoring Severus' expectant gaze. "You still do not understand," he finally said.

Severus raised a brow. "It seems like you think me ignorant or something of the like."

"No, not ignorant. You simply cannot fathom it, I suppose. That is an adequate excuse in this situation."

"For someone five years plus my junior, you seem to make it a goal to make me feel inferior," Severus murmured.

Tom inclined his head. "We are both genii," he merely replied. "…And as such, I feel no reason to give you the answer out front. I have told you and insisted you listened prior to this, and because you have not heeded it, you find you do not know."

"Must you call me foolish in such a way? A genius may not be stupid, but he can be foolish."

He chuckled again. "Not foolish… but stubborn."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "…I see…"

"Perhaps a wrong word choice?" muttered Riddle.

"No," the professor reluctantly replied, "You were honest."

"About what?"

Severus glared at the smirk that played on the other man's face, remaining silent in protest. He did not like to be belittled… or teased.

"Enough play, Severus," Riddle abruptly said, "I will be frank with you once more. I have no definite intention with Harry other than staying and you nor will anyone else be able to dissuade that."

"You… and Harry?"

Tom shrugged. "Romantically, platonically, it doesn't matter."

The grimace on Severus' face was obvious. He didn't even try to hide it. Tom Riddle was so very _above_, almost like a dictator, that it seemed so… _wrong. _From all the times he had seen Harry, he wasn't all too much of a leader. Instead, he went about things by himself, working them out in his mind, and that suited him well. Tom Riddle was… was—It didn't matter if their teamwork was fantastic, or how easy the two got along with each other (god knows why)! They just… those two…

Harry Potter and Tom Riddle were contrary to each other in a way that wasn't even remotely like the whole "opposites attract" nonsense. They were _different_, but not _opposite_. Though Severus could admittedly see how there could be "chemistry", or whatever rot the teenagers and romance novels of today were calling it, he couldn't see them being… together. Romantically. And though Riddle had said he possessed more experience, Severus _knew_ relationships. He saw them happen, crash, and burn on a daily basis. Not only that, he had been a reluctant witness to relationships that have worked, will work, or are on their way to working, and he knew what they looked like. Sadly. Regretfully.

He also saw how they started, and the messy results. Granted, most of them were teenage relationships, but he had definitely been a spectator for the… teacher affairs… as well. Reluctantly. And completely barring gender.

Moreover, Severus knew that Tom and Harry were platonic _now_, but they were clearly going to progress into a romantic relationship. It was as obvious as the sun in the sky was. There was no doubt in his mind that if things continued to progress as they were, that was what was going to happen. You didn't need divination skills to see _that. _Of course, Severus didn't actually see the _progression_, but he definitely saw the results. The way they interacted, the way they spoke to each other… it was all evidence.

And disgustingly, Severus found he couldn't bear the thought of that brat being hurt emotionally. It sickened him on multiple levels. The Harry that was quiet, shy, and a bookworm was old news. That Harry wasn't something to watch over, to care for. He was in absolute solitude. However…

There was another Harry. A Harry that he had not bore witness to in a very, very long time until CoS. He had only seen him once before, because Lily no longer needed to take along a baby whenever she went to visit him and her son had been old enough to start learning from his father. It had been on one of his very rare visits to the Potter Household that he saw him.

_That _Harry had been worth something. _That _brat had been happy. Innocent. Carefree. Relaxed. All smiles. _Cute_.

Even if the child had been the spawn of James Potter, he hadn't been able to bring himself to care. That child had been _nothing_ like his father! He had been… been…

He had been all Harry. Not even any Lily; just Harry.

"I can see that you won't be giving up on your stance anytime soon," Tom said. "That's fine. The earlier you can accept the way things are, the sooner we can move past all enmity. We could be friends, you and I."

"…We could be," Severus agreed.

"When you're done being stubborn, call me Tom, won't you? 'Til then, Snape," with those parting words, Tom Riddle stood and easily strode towards the exit, paying for his coffee as he left. A few seconds later, a waitress came to pick up the empty mug.

Severus remained seated. The oppressive aura that had surrounded him was gone—long gone—and he exhaled the surplus of breath he had been holding throughout the duration of their talk. Slowly, he relaxed into the seat, and allowed his shoulders to sag. How could that brat have done it? Staying in that man's company for so long… Perhaps you could grow a resistance to it, and Severus could certainly see himself doing so, but that presence was so _overwhelming—_it made you look. Made you pay attention. Made you _nervous_.

With careful movements, he swallowed the spit that had collected in his mouth and grimaced at the feeling. Then, Severus stood up, moved away from the table, and made his way to the exit. It was done. Over. But he hadn't succeeded in doing anything at all.

It had been a very long time since he had failed at an endeavor. Ridiculous. Of course that brat would have to choose someone he couldn't glare into submission.

Severus snorted. He did not stop to buy a drink to wash away the disgusting dirty taste of his mouth. Moving south, he made his way towards his car parked a ways away—not having wanted to park so close to the meeting location. He chose to walk through the park, movements flowing even after being stiff for so long.

Suddenly, he paused, enraptured by the sight before him.

There, no more than fifteen meters away, stood Tom Riddle. The very same Tom Riddle he had just been speaking to, in fact. Beside him, Harry Potter. That wasn't, however, what had caught his attention and held it.

They were both smiling. Gentle smiles. Happy smiles. Expressions soft, posture relaxed, _smiling_. At ease. Was it even possible? With that man… with that _presence_…

Harry didn't seem disturbed at all. In fact, he was laughing and grinning and talking excitedly. There was some type of joy there that Severus had never seen before, not even when they all had a good run online. Severus couldn't even recognize the expression on his face—never had he seen it on Harry Potter. He knew what it _was_, though he could not bring himself to admit it.

Harry was happy. Happy and carefree and relaxed and _standing right next to Tom Riddle_. They looked… they were… Severus squeezed his eyes shut, immediately reopening them right after. The two were still there, still talking, still standing, still _enjoying each other's company_. In real life. This wasn't a game, and they weren't talking through a monitor, and Harry wasn't Scarred and Riddle wasn't VolDeMort—

And he wasn't HBPrince. He wasn't there at all. Severus Snape was not existent in their small world, and he wondered—couldn't help to—wondered if maybe, just _maybe_, if things had always been like this for them. Had he been blind to it? His arguments from a minute ago felt high and dry—useless and baseless. Pure nonsense. Because right here, now, with only themselves and the scenery around them, Harry Potter and Tom Riddle did not look awkward at all. They did not look _wrong_, did not look strange. They fit, in a way Severus never imagined they could.

Had he been blind before this? How could he not have _seen it_?

Riddle—no, Tom… Tom would never harm a hair on Harry's head. He would never hurt the boy, never abandon him or break him or do unspeakable acts against him. Tom would lie in wait, waiting for the very person that _had _hurt Harry and then, at the precise moment—

Severus closed his eyes, turned around, and walked away. He could go the roundabout route to his car. There was no reason to interrupt.

He wasn't happy, but a part of him—not a small part, either—was getting there.

Because if Severus couldn't protect Harry, Tom sure as hell _would._

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**Call me an author, call me a fangirl, but I loved this chapter. Seriously. However, just because I thought it was perfect doesn't mean you guys did! Did it go too fast? Too awkward? Was Tom supposed to severely maim Severus or something? What did you guys imagine, since I told y'all what this chapter was going to be earlier?**

**I want to know!**

**Anyways, if you're curious, the day they met was Saturday. Tom totally had a date with Harry after, which is why he was like "Screw this I'm not going to wait for Severus to make up his mind! I'm going to go see Harry bwahahaha!" ...Yeah... you guys remember the whole 3AM thing? Well this is what you get from me at 9:30PM after a hand cramp and lots and lots of Severus-centric stuff. **

**Ugh. Math homework, why do you have to be so neat and orderly? Why can't you let me be messy?**

**Enough about my woes. What did you guys think of the chapter? Tell me in a review! Was it confusing? Too much talking? Was Tom too magical in a non-magic!AU? (Though I imagine he be just as charismatic... Severus, who is sensitive to that sort of stuff, felt an amplified version). Ask me questions! Tell me comments! Feed me virtual cake! **

**Oh yeah, and thanks for the +70 reviews *_* I love you guys, y'know? 100 reviews is actually within grasp! Thanks for spoiling me :heart:**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	14. The Player Behind HBPrince

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

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**"H**ow could you do that to them, Severus? I know they were bullies a couple of years ago, but they've changed! You can't honestly still hold a grudge against them, can you?!" Lily shouted; her tone desperate and pleading. It sent violent waves of rage through his body, and if he hadn't had the self-control that he had acquired from his childhood, Severus' body would've trembled.

He was speechless. Was she really so ignorant to not see what was before her very eyes? The Marauders weren't all too smart, no matter how "creative" their pranks could be. Yes, they put in an effort to hide everything from her, but Lily wasn't stupid! She was observant! She was cunning! She was… was…

_His_. Wasn't she supposed to be his? Wasn't she supposed to stand by him always? Weren't they friends? Didn't she trust him?! Would she really accuse him like this, like now, without even getting his half of the story?! She wasn't even supposed to need "his half"! They were friends, best friends for Christ's sake! They might not have been as close as they usually were lately, but that didn't lower the value of their friendship!

Was this what "love" had done to her? Had James Potter mutated her into something indiscernible? Love—an emotion he held much of for Lily Evans—would it be the end of her? The end of them? Was she no longer his…?

_Did he no longer stand a chance?_

It filled him up from the inside out, burning and trembling and pushing against the confines of his heart. Sometimes Severus felt an indescribable pang when he watched her laugh and smile next to Potter, but this was different. For one, it lasted longer—much longer—and hurt more than a hundred times over. He thought he could stand it—stand the fling that would be Lily and Potter—and he thought he could wait. He thought he could wait for her, wait for her to realize how he felt, how badly he _wanted_ her…

He was _mature. _More so than the rest of their age group. He stood in silence, in pain, in anger; waiting for the exact moment to swoop in. Severus thought he was smart. He thought he could do this. He overestimated himself, overestimated the amount of pain he could take. But all of his calculations were wrong; all of the hours he had laid awake thinking and planning were for naught.

He couldn't—just _couldn't_—

His throat squeezed, dry and parched and rough as he stood still, taking the yelling and the shouting and Lily Evans' torturous eyes. The green eyes he had admired so very, very much.

_No more. He couldn't take it anymore._

"What would _you_ know, you filthy little whore?!" Like a dam, Severus' anger and sorrow rushed out of him in one blow, one sentence, as his piercing black eyes crushed her more than his words ever could. They showed how he meant it, how much pain she had caused him; they displayed his hurt to the world, and they blamed her for all he had ever felt.

Lily reeled back in shock, a chocked mix of a gasp and a sob sounding from her mouth before the tears welled in her eyes. Perhaps this was supposed to be the part where he felt guilt, regret, and desperately tried to apologize to her as she ran into the arms of her "prince charming"… but Severus did not care. He didn't apologize, not even as silence stretched between them, waiting to be pierced by a sorrowful apology. Never had he despised her more than in this moment, never had he hated her eyes more than _here. _Now.

So what if she cried? So what if she hurt? He wanted her to feel it—feel the utter despair that he had felt for so many years. The crushing pain that his father caused him, the undisputed rage that the Marauders gave him as he was put through hell, and the bitter remorse he felt whenever she sided with them, which was frankly happening more than not recently. So what if she was a girl? So what if she ran? She deserved it. Deserved it all. How _dare_ she yell at him for reaping revenge? _How dare she?! _She hadn't been around when he needed her most, hadn't talked to him—really _talked_—in such a long time… So what _gave her the right_?!

_Break. Break. Fall into pieces. Break before my eyes; scream for me. I want you to crumble. Shatter._ _Fall apart, Lily Evans._

"I… I…" she stuttered, shoulders shaking as the tears began to fall. Behind her, the four Marauders looked on in shock, and then Potter's expression morphed into rage. He was held back by his friends, trying to rush and defend his lady love, but they did not let him.

"_I hate you_, Severus!" Lily finally screamed, and with that she spun around and dashed away, past her crush, past Black, past Lupin, past Pettigrew. James Potter, of course, ran right after her, and a sneer grew onto Severus' face. _So what?_

Later, as he tended to a fresh bruise on his face, did Severus' rage finally flicker out. He wasn't strong, no matter how his feelings tried to convince him so. He wasn't invincible, wasn't untouchable. He didn't suit being a hero—wasn't good enough, courageous enough, selfless enough.

Everything sank in as his trembling hands gently surveyed the damage on his body, somewhat guesstimating where the main wound was everything ached and groaned at staying standing for so long.

_So what…?_

He allowed it to finally strike him, batter against his mind that Lily would no longer be there. She hadn't been for awhile, but then he had been able to harbor the small hope that she _would _come, _would _remember. Now… it was over. He had done that—hurt her—and had done so in cold blood. Severus had been angry, and so had taken it out on her. Did she deserve it? Sweet, gentle Lily, who would never hurt a fly…

But that was his love speaking for him, and the demon of rage howled and cried to crush her completely. He didn't know who he was anymore—couldn't feel it—but perhaps, just maybe, if it were really him… Severus liked to think he would feel sorry.

The day after, Lily Evans did not speak to him. She avoided him, ignored him, and purposefully grabbed onto Potter's arm whenever he walked by. She turned her head in obvious snubbing, and he didn't bother to look her way when they passed each other. While he suffered in silence once more, she insisted on acting like a petulant child. He hated her.

Loved her.

Wanted her.

_Never _cried for her.

He buried himself in books, seeking solace where the pages would not be able to harm him, unless it was in the form of inconsequential paper cuts. Hands would gently caress the spines of novels; fingers would trail over words written in informative manuals. Severus read everything—essays, historical texts, fiction and nonfiction, and everything in between. He wanted to drown in knowledge, which always came so easily to him. History was memorized, plots would be read and predicted, and theories would be imprinted into his mind. Contents of books would flood into his brain, but they would do nothing but relax him.

His beast still cried and ripped at his heart.

It took effort, effort and patience, to finally suppress it. His methods were crude, though effective. Brute force was used to shut it behind doors, locks, chains and leashes that were tied in impossible knots to an iron pole. It was all he could do—unresolved and cowardly as he was. Books became his escape—sometimes he even thought he read not to read, but to flee—and he did not mind. No one approached him again after the Lily debacle, and he didn't mind this either.

He would be alone. If he couldn't have Lily, then he would be alone.

They made up a year after, when she came up to him on a sunny spring day and apologized profusely. James had told her, she had said in a small voice, that he had kept bullying him. She had been wrong, so very wrong, and she wanted to know if he would accept her apology.

Lily also believed he owed her one, too, for his words. Part of him still hated her, but the other yearned for her so very much that he eagerly took the opportunity. Some part of him felt numb, but it didn't matter anymore. He would suppress his beast, the thing inside of him that yowled in anger and painpain_pain, _clawing at its confines.

Because maybe if he was able to lock it up, things would go back to normal.

They never did, not truly, even after he had learned how to lock up all the screaming negativity inside him. Sometimes they would flash in his eyes, but soon he learned how to stop that too. He put the past behind him, gave up his love—as he could no longer claim to be in love with her when most of him still lie unresolved—and gave up the cruelty that echoed in his thoughts. If he couldn't go back, then he would try to be normal.

Still, he consumed the books, flipping through pages as quickly as he read, hoping to find some type of balm for the cracks that grew bigger and bigger by the day.

Sometimes he would talk with Lily, and that seemed to calm him more than books ever could, but he found himself unable to love her like he had for much of his youth. They became friends again, slowly and surely, but he still could not find how to fix himself. Too many thoughts would bounce inside his head, rattling his self-control and playing irritating tunes on his heartstrings. Ugly chords, high pitched and screeching, never seemed to stop.

He wondered if he was falling into insanity.

But Severus was, if anything, resilient. He might not seem so, but being stubborn was glued onto his personality. In life, he was determined to succeed, never to fall again, and with those thoughts he was able to gradually claw himself out of the pit that had trapped him. It was a long process, and mostly prospered from time.

Occasionally he would look back and think how foolish and emotional he had been, but perhaps that was part of being a teenager. With that, he grew, and time taught him many valuable lessons.

By pure stubbornness, Severus was able to survive where others would've fallen into the deep abyss. Perhaps he wasn't all there, he couldn't quite say, but his relationship with Lily had showed him many things. A first love will always hold a place in your heart, and it was quite the same for Severus. He wanted to be part of her life in some way, and she was.

She grew into a real woman, witty with a wicked sense of humor. Often would she remind him how she had gotten it from him, and perhaps that consoled him in some ways.

Severus wasn't lost. Not anymore. Nothing was fixed, but adapted. He grew into how he was; how he had lived, and was able to build back some of the walls that he had lost. Time did not heal, but allowed a chance to re-familiar yourself with who you were. Sometimes he would feel bitter, but that too he accepted as a part of him.

Still, the solitary lifestyle he lived nibbled at his heart.

_Perhaps,_ he mused, _I could try something new._

And he did, as Severus always kept his promises, especially to himself. It came in the form of Chamber of Secrets, the new game that happened to be "all the rage" on the media. Was it too stereotypical? He was intent to find out.

Little did he know who he would find.

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**As the author, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I wrote this chapter in an hour. Sorry it's so short-but all except Harry's "Player Behind" chapter is pretty small, so what can you do?**

**Eh... not sure how I feel about Severus. The original "The Player Behind HBPrince" was supposed to go a lot differently, actually have some Harry in it, and actually have some game-time in it. Well, too bad... We'll get a Cutscene next chapter though, where the game's system will be explained a bit more, we see more of pre-Deathly Hollows, and hopefully Tom and Harry's relationship's dynamics are seen in the eyes of a clueless Severus. That's always fun!**

**Yeah. This chapter could be pretty disappointing to some of you-some part of me actually wanted to hold off on posting it-but I decided ya'll have waited long enough. Time for a new chapter. Even if it's butt-short. If this chapter is actually crap, and you all think so, shoot me a review and I'll probably rewrite it.**

**I'm not too satisfied, but a part of me just loves some snippets of the chapter. -shrug- Severus' extra had me completely lost, but I really wanted to put it as the next installment and... here you go. **

**Uh... so questions? Confusions? Go ahead and (like said) shoot me a review/PM. I'll do my best to answer~ Also, now I feel pretty guilty... giving you this chapter when I'm so near 100 reviews... Agh. Please forgive me ;w; Still love you all though.**

**Sincerely,**

**-R.R.**


	15. Quest XII: Cutscene 3X

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

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_**C**hamber of Secrets Online, the newest MMORPG on the net._

In the world of Magus, the mundane used to rule over all creatures. However, due to a strange battle in which the Goddess was called, the animals began to be infused with a strange power. They were given the power to shape shift, or move objects with their minds, or even a supernatural type of strength. The humans, who were frightened terribly by this development, were, for a time, suppressed and falling from favor. Their villages were invaded by strange creatures—no longer identifiable as the animals that frequented the forests.

Wolves that stood on their hind legs, great beasts whose mighty wings could stir tornadoes, enormous beings that grew three heads or more—they all seemed to rush in a frenzy towards the mundane settlements. The humans were at a loss; it seemed that they had gotten the short end of the stick. Many died in raging massacres, the target of beasts with crazed eyes and strong jaws. Many tried to fight back—many more failed.

It seemed to be over for the human race.

Then, out from the cloud of dust that shrouded the abandoned villages, rose figures of human form. They stepped out from the mist, the obscurity, and fought back the creatures who had almost reached the midst of human settlements. Their strength was unmatched by their mundane counterparts, powers used that were unknown before then. Who were these heroes?

They were humans, just like any other. Lady Luck and Mistress Magic granted the world with champions, as they did not wish for all races to be destroyed, but to co-exist. For awhile, this vision did not come to pass as war raged on between the human magic-users and the strange, fantastical creatures. It seemed as if it were never to end…

Understanding that nothing would get done until both sides received more help, Mistress Magic sent down creatures who did not hold insanity in their eyes—beings that had a high level of intelligence and strength. They rose to the top of their ranks, but held bloodlust still in their design. For awhile, they bested the human magic-users, chasing them into retreat and then some.

Lady Luck was distraught. She did not wish for more battle, for more blood to be shed. With this in mind, she gifted the humans with skills and finesse to hone their new found abilities, allowing them to create order amongst themselves and a specialization of their groups. Up rose the swordsmen, the magicians, the rangers, and the rogues. From there, their classes increased, steadily streaming out into several other jobs that specialized in certain tasks. These magic users were now labeled wizards.

The creatures and wizards were even due to this, their forces unyielding and strong. Battles seemed as if they always ended in draws, one never being able to top the other.

However, the Favored sister of Lady Luck, Fate, had predicted this. She had seen how there would be no peace, not when there was no reason for it. The people did not want to stop fighting, the creatures had gone insane with power, and all together there was too much bad blood. So she would stop it.

Heroes, she predicted, would come to the land. A new generation of humans—wizards—who would take the task of fulfilling a prophecy… and with them, a new generation of creatures; smarter, more civilized; they would be the peacemakers. As the old generation fell in line, tired and wishing for an end, so too would the new generations rise, and bring with them a legend.

The legend of the Chamber of Secrets, for what the new generation sought was not war, but knowledge.

Of course, competition would start up. There would be deaths, always deaths, for Dearest brother Death had his purpose. At least the world's environment would no longer be ravaged by crude, trying acts of dominance, and this was what Favored sister Fate was counting on. She allowed the legend of the Chamber of Secrets to spread, allowing Mistress Magic to scatter her winds as well with the tale lingering as whispers.

A cave, it spoke of, a cave decorated richly and elegantly, filled with carvings that descended from the Creators themselves, lie deep within the earth. A prophecy foretold a band of heroes who would find it and obtain glory, riches, splendor, _knowledge_. The ultimate treasure, beautiful and untouched, within the Chamber of Secrets… however, a mighty beast guards the entrance, waiting to test those who are worthy.

Blessed by Lady Luck and Mistress Magic, the beast will lie in wait. Only those who are worthy will pass, no other shall venture through the cavern entrance.

Travelers will face total destruction, or the most majestic prize of them all.

This was the story that was told, riding upon the winds, rustling in the trees, flowing down the streams. Treasured father Time used his magic to spread it all the way back to the very beginning, allowing the story to spin and transfer through words and writing. All of the direct descendents from the Creators weaved the legend over and over, making it timeless and delicately entwining it with daily life. Everyone would know of the Chamber of Secrets, but no one would reach it. Not yet, for now would not be the right time.

_For the worthy will pass… and no other._

The very last descendents of the Creators held true to their task. Through their awesome deeds were they known for, and such allowed them to spread their message. They were but four, but four did the job of millions.

Sir Godric Gryffindor, Sir Salazar Slytherin, Lady Rowena Ravenclaw, and Lady Helga Hufflepuff were the very last of the line. As the last, they decided to create factions for a bit of friendly competition between them, and though it was all in good sport, not all the people in their faction thought so. Rivalry quickly sprouted between Gryffindor and Slytherin factions, first due to their opposing differences and then because of mudslinging that took place after the death of the Founders. Battles waged, and soon the factions of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were forced to take sides.

Neither appreciated being pulled both ways, and so decided upon an alliance instead. They would remain mostly neutral, letting the other two engage in their petty arguments, but tolerance and better relations with one would take place with the alliance intact. Quickly, Ravenclaw clans took majority votes, and their treaty took place with Slytherin. Hufflepuff, being loyal and brave when necessary, found kindred spirits in some Gryffindors.

They also decided that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff's members would be able to team themselves up with Slytherin or Gryffindor members, though the latter grouping could not band together as their strife caused many needless arguments.

So went the tale, so went the rivalry.

Today, the four factions are ruled by the strongest clan within. Said clans are made up of teams, and though there is no clear clan head, all teams have settled into peaceful agreements that define how exactly decisions were to be made. The strongest clan also settled disputes within the faction, helping settle the many outside as well, and generally taking care of the territory the faction ruled and doing such things.

The leading faction was, currently, no one. Gryffindor and Slytherin were close ties, having Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff fall in behind. Population-wise, Gryffindor stood with the most, followed by Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and lastly, Slytherin.

For many, it was surprising that Slytherin was able to hold their own, more so even putting up a fight with Gryffindor, but what grew increasingly apparent was this: The Slytherins easily topped as having the most experienced Wizards of all.

This was the world HBPrince found himself re-entering. As a team-less Slytherin sage, things were sometimes rough for him, but it all ended up well enough. Severus was a master at kiting, using this method when the team he was with appeared to be incompetent or lacking members. It honestly wasn't a sage's main job, and he wasn't supposed to do it all too often, but things were different for him.

He couldn't find a team to settle down with.

Now, considering that sages were in high demand (bishops as well), it was odd to be team-less for so long. Being unwanted wasn't even the problem; mainly it was because of the—

"_Shit! It's the mini-boss! Run!"_

Players.

His temporary teammates dashed off, quickly retreating out of aggro range without a second warning to their sage to back off. They continued dashing towards the exit. Hell, they didn't even try and protect him! They just ran! Severus' eye twitched. It was probably going to be one of _those days_…

But for now, Prince would have to contend with the furious Clan Leader Orc on his tail. _Fuck__**. **_He backed off, shooting a slow at it, but he was a _sage_, a _sage that was alone_. There was no one to tank it, no one to follow up, no one to use as a meat shield as he retreated—

Severus sighed. "Looks like I'll be grinding back five percent of EXP today," he muttered under his breath.

Prince's health quickly took a bashing, and he waited impatiently, almost as if in slow motion, for the hit that would send him off in flashy lights, but apparently it was not to be. A blur on Severus' screen passed right by him, a trail of slash marks dissipating into the air as the blur continued to move. A flare of black magic bolted towards the mini-boss, snaring it as whoever-the-hell-it-was continued its attack. Some chain of skills later, the mini-boss fell without being able to raise its battle axe to strike with.

Severus was slightly impressed. And, he noted, not dead; he definitely wasn't dead yet.

The blur finally stopped moving, allowing the player to finally appear on the screen. Behind Prince, another player in a black cloak had glided in. The former held a large but thin sword in his hand, decorated in engravings and beautiful rune signs. _A berserker, _Severus was able to recognize.

"_You okay there?" _the berserker asked, _"I was scared we wouldn't make it in time to save you!"_

"_I'm fine," _Prince replied, and then two seconds later, "_Thank you._" It was only common courtesy—not to mention being forced to grind up five whole percent back was not his ideal way of spending his time. He didn't like dying.

The player beamed, making a strange animation. "_So, what's a sage like you doing here? Where's your party?"_

"…_They ran after they saw the mini-boss," _Prince replied, and Severus couldn't keep the sneer off of his face as the thought back to his cowardly party. "Pathetic, the lot of them," he couldn't help but growl aloud.

"_What kind of team is that?" _the player in the dark cloak finally spoke.

"_Thankfully not mine," _he answered.

"_Humm, well that's just no good! You're already here, so might as well finish the dungeon, right? ^o^" _chimed in the berserker.

Severus couldn't help but raise a brow at the screen. _"I'm a sage, if you recall."_

"_Crystal~ You can finish it up with us! We're a two person team, Berserker and Dark Lord class. Scarred and VolDeMort, at your service! :D"_

"_Imp…" _the cloaked player growled menacingly.

"_Oh, hush Voldie. It's a _sage! _I'm sure you love ghosting in and out all dark lordly, but sages are free heal. I am _not _turning free heal down! Err, no offence there."_

"_None taken," _said Prince, and he meant it. Sages and bishops _were _free heal; any party would want them. _"I'm HBPrince_." Often times, players turned off the option to display others' names during dungeon runs, preferring no distractions. If you met someone in a dungeon and began to talk, it was always good etiquette to introduce yourself rather than forcing the other to turn on their options.

_Scarred has invited you to the party. Accept?_

"_Yay~ Free heal! :D I haven't had free heal in such a long time… Voldie, why don't Dark Lords have healing spells? T_T" _complained Scarred in party chat.

"_We're Dark Lords," _said dark lord deadpanned, _"If we had healing spells, you'd stick us with a Dark Cleric label."_

"_But free heal is awesome ;_;!"_

"_I don't care."_

"_That's only because you have an escape skill!"_

"_You have one too."_

"_Yeah, but I have to initiate, not to mention tank!"_

VolDeMort moved forward, venturing further into the dungeon and expecting the party to follow after. _"We've already had this discussion."_

"_Doesn't make it any less valid x_x."_

Prince followed in minor disbelief as they continued to argue back and forth, switching topics at their leisure. It was so quick that if he was anyone else, he'd probably have a tough time following. Obviously this was how they usually were, and he couldn't believe they were actually doing this in the Orc dungeon! This place wasn't exactly for the defenseless.

Severus slowly blinked. Then again…

Scarred glided into the mob, sending out quick bursts of energy through his sword's slice. Calm, easy bolts of dark magic followed up his attacks as VolDeMort chained combos with him. They continued bickering as they fought, making comments as their skill animations played and destroying the mob. It was quickly over, and Prince had made sure to keep Scarred's health up… but…

"_Wow~ Sages are amazing! I'm at full HP :3 Thanks Prince," _the berserker chimed, though it was honestly unneeded. Scarred would've had near full health anyways even without the sage's heal, but he supposed it was really besides the point… This team was odd.

"_Do you always dive into the mob?" _Prince found himself asking.

"_Err… well—"_

"_He does," _VolDeMort cut his partner off, _"Always."_

"_Not always!" _Scarred defended, _"Just… mostly."_

"_Mostly being the equivalent of always when in reference to _you_."_

"_Lies! I don't—"_

"_Name two times where you didn't."_

"…_Uh… Well, there was that one time—"_

"_Point proven. Let's go."_

"…_Jerk," _Scarred mumbled after as he Skid Dash'd past his companion to take the lead.

The next mob they encountered was bigger, and the berserker initiated by popping a Tumble Dive, sending a third of the mob into the air with the after effect. VolDeMort had already sent out his chain of spells, and all of them hit for aerial attack bonuses. Some died to it, some survived with a chip of health. These Scarred took down with an Ultimate Reckoning, hitting the bunched up Orcs with the short range wave. They charged at him, and by instinct Prince quickly healed and shielded.

A few brainless hack-and-slash combos later, this mob too was down and they continued forward.

"_Really convenient that that mob just now was so close together ^o^," _commented Scarred as they continued.

"_Don't count on it for the whole dungeon," _said Prince, his guard still up as they ran into little to no problems so far. Strange…

They continued on in this fashion for awhile, decimating mobs whilst Scarred and VolDeMort's chat bubbles were quickly replaced with others. It wasn't that they were talkative… it was more like they argued. Or bickered. Or fought. He wasn't sure which was which. Moreover, he couldn't exactly tell if they were teasing or not. Though he wasn't in their party for long, he could at least tell that Scarred seemed more of the type to tease than the dark lord.

The two traded off replies without missing a beat, except perhaps when there was an exceptionally strange configuration in the mob. Prince found himself relaxing into his role without much worry, counting on his instincts and that of his team's as they strolled through the Orc dungeon. He hadn't been able to do this for awhile—and it was quite the feeling.

For once, he felt like a support. A _real _support, in a _team, _not just a sage in a party; not another player that happened to carry more utility skills than the rest, and though he didn't take part in their conversation, Severus felt integrated somehow. He was a bystander, a spectator, and was so very far away but—

"_No way! Paladins suck Dx!" _Scarred whined as the last of the cavern's monsters fell.

"_It's the only warrior class with a stable healing skill."_

"_But… They're so… _supporty_!"_

"_So you finally understand why they didn't give dark lords a healing spell, don't you?" _replied VolDeMort.

"_T-T…"_

"_Don't you?" _he pushed, not accepting silence as a reply.

"…_Yes…" _Scarred grumbled, appearing to sulk at the answer. _"But I still say they should at least have a minor heal!"_

"…_."_

"…_?"_

"_Impertinent imp."_

At the same time, this was the closest Prince ever felt to other players. Their conversation was warm, not in context, but in aura. Maybe to some they were just words on a screen, but sometimes they could jump alive, worming smiles onto your face and whatnot. He wasn't exactly sure if Scarred and VolDeMort knew he was still there—though occasionally the former would chip in a word or two at him that would bring back his existence—but he didn't feel all too excluded. It was… strange. Different. Bizarre, even.

Severus wondered if this was what a team felt like. If so, perhaps he'd put some more effort in finding one for himself.

"_Hey look! It's the boss! Hope we get another circlet!" _said Scarred, who darted in right after the sentence was uttered. Severus started in front of his monitor, eyes widened in slight belief as the berserker just started hacking away without any buffs or shields. Was the player deranged?

"…_Not going to wait for buff?" _asked Prince, who frantically tried to move within range without getting hit to cast all of his party skills.

VolDeMort moved in quickly as well, covering for the sage as they moved. His skills had a longer range, though shorter than an archer's, and thus was able to toss off slowing spells that, though did not do much damage, at least were able to buy time for said buffs and shields. The reaction speed that the dark lord had moved out was astounding, and perhaps Severus would've taken more time to admire it if they weren't trying to recover from their berserker's mishap.

"_Woops… sorry Prince, completely forgot we had a sage :(."_

Severus sighed in exasperation. Forgot? Who _forgot?_ Well, never mind it anyways. They had a boss to slay.

Scarred tossed several movement skills into his attacks, making it so that the boss' own attacks missed or skimmed him at the least. It was too bad that this was one of the bosses that players were unable to obtain aerial attack bonus on, but in its own way made sense. The Orc Ruler was a creature thrice the height of a tall player, huge in width also and who swung around a double-sided axe. Hardly a blunt weapon, the ax allowed for many of the monster's skills to have a wide arc range around it, making it dangerous for warriors who were unable to tank.

Nevertheless, Scarred seemed to be doing just fine. In fact, his movements looked like something practiced over and over again, as if the player behind him knew the instant the boss was about to do a certain type of move and what not. That wasn't necessarily odd, considering many people trained in the dungeon, but he wasn't even displaying any type of caution! Scarred never backed up too far, and always stayed close and within range of the axe. It was a wonder, really, though the random taunts he also threw in helped keep the attention off of the rest of the party.

A certain skill here, a jump or roll there—Scarred didn't seem too bothered. And VolDeMort certainly wasn't; didn't even bother moving around to somewhat follow his berserker in case he needed help. No, the dark lord simply stood to one side and shot off chains of attacks.

Prince was unsure exactly how to react—on one hand, the berserker was in a dangerous spot. On the other, if he followed, the next second the berserker would probably be on the other side and out of his range again. Curse the mage's mid-range skills, and curse a priest's advancement's even shorter! In such a case, he finally decided not to move too far off after all. The berserker knew what he was doing—certainly he did!—and so the sage would just stay in teleport-range, just in case. When Scarred got close enough, he would catch the wisp of a heal, which was enough to bring up any health he had lost from being caught in skimming the boss' skills.

The whole battle—if one could call it that—went on without issue, and eventually the boss fell to the magic and physical attacks that had ensnared him. _How anticlimactic, _Severus mused, having expected coming into this dungeon with a semi-incompetent party and being forced to claw their way forward.

"_Hey! A Chanter's Circlet! Lucky day~ :3," _the berserker exclaimed after the dust and debris had cleared.

Severus almost did a double take. _What?_

"_I would've preferred a Misery Cloak," _said VolDeMort, utterly nonchalant about getting the rare drop. The Orc dungeon wasn't all about EXP—the boss also dropped a wide variety of rare items; not ultra rare, but still rare in itself. It wasn't a popular farming ground only because of the sheer length of the dungeon—and the fact that none of the lesser monsters ever dropped anything worthwhile.

"_Congratulations," _Prince cautiously said, not quite understanding why the dark lord was so cynical and why the berserker hadn't sounded all too surprised.

"_Thanks, Prince!" _Scarred beamed. _"It was nice running with you~"_

The sentiments were returned, and Prince was making his way towards the exit portal until a window popped up on the screen.

_Player Scarred has requested a trade. Accept?_

Severus blinked, mindlessly not connecting the action with anything else and thus accepting. It was only common courtesy to accept trades—though if you were obviously being hounded for free galleons it would be best to reject any and all, but that only happened in the newbie areas.

"_Here," _the berserker insisted, "_it wouldn't be fair if you left without a parting gift. Free crap always brightens my bad days!" _

He didn't understand what the player meant until the Chanter's Circlet popped up inside the trade window—and was promptly locked in without expecting anything on his half. _"I can't accept—"_

"_You should," _cut in VolDeMort, _"He's nice to everyone. Take advantage of it and walk away... or else you'll never be able to."_

"_Hey! That's mean D;" _complained his teammate, and Severus once again was left with an unbalanced feeling of surprise and confusion. These two… were they really a team? One was frightfully blunt about anything negative—and the other seemed like a happy-go-lucky type of guy. He would've laughed if he had seen their personalities before dungeoning with them, because they actually worked, even when they bickered.

"_Go ahead Prince. We can always get another one~"_

"…_Another one?" _he asked, still lost in the moment where his brain failed to catch up with the events.

"_Mhm. This will be our farming spot for today!"_

They were… farmers? Inwardly, Severus cursed his stupidity, not that he'd ever tell anyone he had any. No wonder the run had gone so flawlessly—they were already used to running this dungeon perhaps, say, forty times? But another Chanter's Circlet drop wasn't too common—not _any range _of common at all—so he still felt the need to reject the gift. They were strangers, and for most of the run he hadn't really done anything useful, other than the occasional shield or heal that the two seemed to not need.

"_If you don't take it, Scarred will get upset," _VolDeMort commented, as if that would do anything to change his hesitant mindset, _"And when Scarred gets upset, that means _I'm the one to suffer_."_

"_What Voldie means is be prepared for a mass defaming spree if you don't accept, even if you're a fellow Slytherin!" _Scarred cheerfully announced.

Prince balked. He needed his fame for his equips—and he only had the minimum required for them. _"I'll be taking it then," _he immediately said, and quickly accepted the trade before any other threats could get through. Curse a sage's requirements!

"_Hooray ^o^~ We'll be seeing you around then!" _and with that, Scarred's happily waving good-bye animation was what his screen faded out as he exited through the portal. What strange players… and in Slytherin? They must be pretty good—_fuck. _

What was wrong with his brain today?! Were the students he taught finally, after many continuous trials, successful in infecting him with their stupidity?! (And Severus tried to reassure himself that stupidity was not a contagious disease, even if it felt like it.)

VolDeMort—the infamous Slytherin PvPer who had rose through the ranks so very quickly—

That had most definitely been him. He hadn't recalled getting any news through the chain line that the player had gotten a partner—or a team— though, which was what, in all its unexpectedness, threw him off the most. Being team-less, Severus was unable to join any of the clans, and last he heard VolDeMort was also team-less. There was a list that could be seen at their faction base of who exactly did not belong to a clan, who was team-less, and the many that _did _belong to the former.

And Scarred, that warrior, he had never heard of him before. You could only see someone's faction when they were in town, which prevented any unruly players from targeting certain factions in a PK, and Severus certainly did not have his option to display clans up. It made him wonder who Scarred really was—someone who the infamous dark lord teamed up with certainly wasn't a pushover—and his skills inside the Orc dungeon couldn't really be counted, considering they were farming there… Judging from his parting words, the player was most definitely a Slytherin as well, and was not of the higher level players that caught the spotlight with their mischevious and cunning ways because Severus had been unable to recognize him.

Finally, he decided to stop his guess work and just go to the faction HQ. He was curious, and there was nothing to stop the urge, so… to base he'd go.

The base, as per usual, was located in the very middle of the faction's territory, and was by default part of their land that was unconquerable. All factions had default land, and from there they usually conquered nearby territory until they were able to spread farther without fearing immediate retaliation. All members of the faction had a skill that allowed them to teleport to base—for a fee, sort of like taxes. It was much cheaper than the other teleporting facilities, so no one really had any reason to complain either. This was the method Severus chose to use over taking the long route to get there.

The Slytherin faction base was as it had always been—decorated in greens and silvers, just as Gryffindor with its reds and golds. It had an air of elegance about it, with a statue of a coiled cobra in the center of the town's square, accented in shades of green with white opal eyes; an admittedly beautiful piece in the middle of a fountain. Below it, Severus knew, was a plaque that stated the current head clan's name.

Other players gathered about, sharing news—and quite possibly gossiping—about a variety of things, and if they were Hufflepuff or Gryffindor there would be many new players also wandering about, shy and in need of occasional assistance or companionship. But this was not Hufflepuff or Gryffindor—Slytherin rarely took in new players, due to their rumored unfriendliness, and when players achieved the level of twenty five they probably already acquainted themselves with one of the previous aforementioned faction members to even think about joining the snakes.

Character lists were located in one of the many buildings' bulletin boards, not on the main one in town square, so he quickly made his way to the location without stopping to loiter with the other Slytherins. That didn't stop, however, the news that creeped up in the general chat box, and Severus idly read this as he walked to his destination. Rare items for sale… rumors of a scheduled fight between some high level teams… recruitings for legendary boss runs… other useful information and others not so much; the interesting bits and pieces would only be told if asked, and Severus certainly had no intention of doing that.

Quickly he scrolled through the bulletin lists upon arrival, typing the player names in the search box to make his small detour faster.

**Scarred – Berserker – Level XXX – Team Deathly Hollows**

**VolDeMort – Dark Lord – Level XXX – Team Deathly Hollows**

_Amount of Team Members: 2_

_Team Rank: XX_

_Status of Team: Not Recruiting_

_Clan: **Serpentine**_

The word registered in his mind, quick and clear and a relief after an odd day, though his confusion was by no means cured. _**Serpentine**_…

Of course. _Of fucking course_ they would be in that clan…

And it was to Severus' honest surprise when later checking his inventory that the stats of the Chanter's Circlet were downright _godly_.

The next day and in the same city as Severus Snape, one Harry Potter walked down the streets, casually pushing open a clear door that led into a small shop. Though it wasn't big as the main one further into town, it suited his needs just fine. His partner had already guessed what he was going to do, though he probably couldn't fathom why the berserker had such a new-found curiosity. He had been disgruntled, something he had not bothered to hide, and Harry had found himself snickering at the screen. VolDeMort was _so _predictable sometimes.

"Hello. Do you need any assistance?" an employee asked from the side, pausing in his work of reorganizing the games.

"No," Harry replied, "I'm fine." He waved off the worker, heading straight to the counter where another employee was typing away at the computer screen. He patiently waited for the man to notice him, far shorter than the employee, and did not get irritated when the man took at least a minute to realize he was there.

"Oh, sorry about that. Do you need any help?"

"Yes, actually," he said this time, "I was wondering if you could give me any news on Chamber of Secret's expansion pack?"

The employee snorted. "Look kid, I don't know who you are, and I don't know if you've been living under a rock for a couple months or not, but the expansion pack was just a rumor! If you're going to badger me for old, fake information, please kindly go and—"

"Oh, but I do insist," Harry interrupted, starting to lose a bit of his patience. _So the bloke was new, was he?_

"Do you?" the man sneered, losing his professional manner.

"Yes. I'm looking for news on the serpent's expansion pack."

"Kid, there's no expansion, I _told you_, go on the internet and search it up if you don't believe—"the employee's eyes grew wide and the irritated twitch in his arm stopped.

Harry smiled. "A reliable source told me that this store would know something about it… and I guarantee you that source is _never wrong_."

He visibly swallowed. "What would you like?" he asked, returning to his friendly demeanor.

"I'm from the main server."

The employee laughed. "Ah, so am I kid! Geez, sorry about all of that… I was one of those adamant '_the-expansion-is-fake!' _people, so there's still some hard feelings left about the whole debacle…"

Harry waved it off. "I need some information, if you please."

"You name it kid! Want the future prices on the market? Lowest supposedly non-existent market price for the exclusive Golden Snitch pendant? How about the exact stats of AlphaPride's members?"

"None. I need information on a Slytherin sage—HBPrince."

The man gave him an odd look. "…A Slytherin sage? Sure, I guess. What team? Clan?"

"Team-less," he replied, short and to the point.

"Alright then… one second…" muttered the employee, typing away at the computer in front of him. Finally, the man leaned back from the screen and began to rattle off all kinds of facts, stats to equipment to last five run dungeons and party joins.

"So he never joined a team?" Harry asked curiously.

"Nope. Sort of funny, I guess, considering he's a pretty good sage—really good records too. Ran a couple of legendary boss runs, even though he's team-less. Reliable and all that… Only thing is he's rather anti-social, not very friendly, him. You looking for a sage for your team or something, kid?"

"I was just curious…" he murmured, "How much gold does he have?"

"'Bout 700 million galleons at the moment, really good for a solo-player, 'specially a sage. He's pretty active on the market too."

Harry hummed. "Alright, thanks for the info."

Caught off guard, the man stumbled. "Ah… right… hey wait, kid!" He called, seeing the player quick in his retreat.

Turning his head slightly, Harry gave the employee a questioning look.

"What team are you in? Clan? You're part of the Slytherin faction, right? Any good there? What's your IGN? I haven't heard of a Slytherin using this base before in a couple months…"

He smiled. Perhaps if he was part of a no-name team, it wouldn't be all too dangerous to tell, but the fact of the matter was they were rising rather quickly through the ranks… VolDeMort wouldn't be pleased if anyone got too much dirt on them, after all. "Slytherin's good, and Serpentine will be winning more territory in a week." Harry said, and then left, ignoring the rest of the questions. Behind him, the man balked at the mention of Serpentine. _The Slytherin's head clan was going to be on the move again?!_

Harry had what he wanted. It looked like it was a good idea after all to give the sage that Chanter's Circlet—he'd make some good business with the stats. It would probably be enough to snatch a good Nature's Ambition off the market. Perhaps if they bumped into each other again VolDeMort wouldn't be so stingy about getting another member… sages meant free heal after all.

Secretly, Scarred schemed.

* * *

**Yeah! A longer chapter! Sorry for the absolutely horrendous wait guys, last week was terribly busy :( and I totally didn't forget about you, I swear! The good news is, you get some insight into the game! Also: Thanks so much for 100+ reviews... and 10k+ hits?! Love ya'll ;).**

**So, if you've noticed, VolDeMort and Scarred actually talk in game. Yeah, they haven't started video chatting yet...aha. And you get an outside view on dungeoning with them :p poor Severus, he was so thrown off. **

**Not so sure about what will come next chapter, so we'll just have to wait it out and see. Some stuff happened that I didn't really expect here, so I-as the author-am as clueless as ya'll are. **

**Insert obligatory "Questions? Confusions? Any comments for me? Pop me a review or a PM! I'll answer best I can ;). Remember, no anonymous reviews if you do have a question, as I can't reply to those!" here. **

**ALSO ALSO! Before I forget, on my profile I'll be posting some information on The Game's -verse, basically information about who's who, what the known skills, factions, teams, are etc. etc. If you have any reccomendations on what to put there, please tell me! It's a slow process, but I'm slowly making my way to what I want it to be, lol. A lot of changes will be made as time passes, so format also might not always be the same.**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	16. Quest XIII: Cutscene 4X

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**"P**otter! What is the 33rd element on the Periodic Table?"

"Arsenic, sir," the student calmly and quietly replied, not having missed a beat. The rest of the students sighed in relief at not being picked.

Severus sneered. "Correct. Considering that Mister Potter and Miss Granger were the only two to answer the review questions properly, I would say the rest of you are going to fail, _miserably_, on tomorrow's test unless you _do something about it._"

Several people made strangled noises in the backs of their throats, obviously trying to restrain the groans that wanted to surface. Potter stood out oddly impassive, merely staring up at his teacher and blinking. Severus resisted the urge to call him out—the boy wasn't really _doing _anything, and had answered the question correctly—but his studious nature continued to tick him off no matter how long of a time he had to get used to it.

Severus didn't _want_ to get used to it. Potter was a _Potter_, for crying out loud!

"As a warning to those who are going to fail and know it," he began mildly, "I will most likely want a five page report detailing our latest lecture from said failures. Standard format. It will be graded as an essay and will _possibly _save your detrimental test grades if you do _extremely well_."

The bell rang, breaking the terse silence. None of the students moved.

"Dismissed," Severus waved, and practically all of the originally still teenagers scrambled out of their seats and out the door—haphazardly packed bags slung over shoulders in their haste. "Potter! Stay behind." Said boy nodded idly, having still been seated anyways and was slowly packing away his things. Hermione Granger stood off to the side—already prepared to go to the next class—and looking indecisive on whether to bolt or wait like a loyal friend should.

Potter waved her off with a small reassuring type of expression on his face, and she dashed off. Inwardly, Severus sneered. _A Potter was a Potter,_ he told himself calmly, even though he knew in his heart that Harry James Potter could _never _be like his father. It didn't mean he had to like it.

"Was there anything you needed, sir?" the teen asked quietly, standing with his things packed away in the bag hanging off his shoulder. He approached his teacher with a calm not many could stand to have in one such as Severus' presence.

Said man moved around to the back of his desk, clothes quiet even through the sharp movement. Then, facing the boy once more, Severus placed two hands onto the desk in front of him, leaning over to observe his student with his sharp black eyes. "You are doing well," he finally said, keeping out the regretful grimace that he so wanted to make.

Potter bowed his head politely. "Thank you sir."

"I expect high grades on the test tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

"And also the lab next week."

"Yes sir."

"You, as one of the top students in my class, will have a harsher punishment if you don't do well."

"Understood, sir."

Severus resisted the urge to twitch. The boy hadn't made a move or an expression of distaste as many others would've. "Many students have been requesting a tutoring system," he began slowly, the tale not a lie but not a full truth either. The students had requested a tutoring system from their _other teachers_, who then in turn requested it from _him_. "Would you be averse to signing up?"

Potter paused. "I am… not sure if it would fit into my schedule," he started, "Professor Babbling and Madam Delacour already have my name on their teacher aides list, and Madam Delacour has also volunteered me for assisting the exchange students this year as a representative for French and German. I'm also taking Latin lessons from Professor Sinistra at the Extracurricular Building after school." He didn't mention any of the massive amounts of academic clubs he was a member of, and Severus hadn't expected him to.

"See if you can find the time and alert me," the chemistry teacher replied. Potter nodded compliantly. "…And if you cannot, tell Miss Granger of this meeting. I'm sure she'll jump at the chance."

"Understood, sir."

His quick affirmatives were starting to irritate Severus more than he would've liked. Idly, the professor wondered if he would be able to keep Potter long enough so he would be late to his next class.

And as if the boy had heard his thoughts, the teen asked, "Would that be all sir? My next class is quite far away…"

Aha! An opportunity to finally scold the brat for _something—_

Severus found himself staring into brilliant green eyes. They were uncovered from the somewhat bulky glasses the boy usually wore in his class, as though they did lectures, they also worked out of specific textbooks inside the classroom for labs. Admittedly, Potter had very good concentration; his attention span was much better than his father's. Completely distracted from his prior thoughts and finding himself in an entirely different tangent, Severus snapped out of his second wanderings and waved the boy off. "You may go," he idly replied.

Potter bowed his head and murmured a quick "excuse me then, professor…" before he was gone.

The teacher sighed, returning to his papers and quickly preparing for his next class. It was only in the middle of straightening one of the homework stacks did he pause in his work. "Was I just manipulated?" Severus muttered, scrunching up his eyebrows in a vague display of disturbed thought. He sighed again, much more pronounced this time, and returned to what he was doing with a trail of angry mutterings murmured through the room.

Needless to say, the next class was terrified out of their wits. It was far too bad that they would actually need said wits this period; otherwise they could've gone by relatively unscathed.

After such a day, home was a welcome place as much as it was to students as it was to Severus. He greeted the entrance with an ease in his tense shoulders, letting out a breath of relief and exasperation. Sometimes he wondered why he became a teacher—_high school_ teacher of all things—in a competitive school such as the one he worked at. The students weren't idiots, they just had extreme moments of stupidity, coincidentally always during his class. More was expected out of them, and it wasn't the first time that he toyed with the idea of working at a boarding school or your normal, average high school.

Both ideas were then firmly rejected. They would be much, _much worse _than where he was at now.

Severus moved mechanically through his house, doing the daily jobs that he always did. Take off his shoes, put away his bags, take off his coat, check the mail he had placed earlier on the table…

Send a reply to his godson Draco, he mentally noted. Lucius was a family man, but could be a complete spazz when it came to his son's requests. Severus usually acted as the middle man between them for the major ordeals, and it would look like they would be requiring him soon enough.

He took a bite to eat before working a bit again, dedicating himself before the sun completely faded below the horizon. Dinner came and went easily, expectedly, and soon enough came _that _time again. Severus could admit to himself that he was actually looking forward to the rounds online tonight. CoS wasn't an obsession, but it definitely was a great stress reliever, specifically because he was in an actual team now.

Tonight would be his first time video chatting with the other two members of Deathly Hollows, his companions that had persistently popped up some time ago. _Or_, he corrected himself, _more specifically, Scarred. _The berserker had been the tenacious one out of the two, tracking him down and pawing at him until he finally agreed to join them. To tell the truth, Severus hadn't put up all too much resistance—it was more of the time it took for the player to get to the point than anything.

He had wondered more than once about his odd teammates. Some time in between their first meeting and his joining, they had begun to video chat themselves—clear and obvious with the way that they no longer bickered through in-game chat, though they could if they wanted to. It certainly didn't bother them all too much while decimating mob after mob.

All he truly knew about their physical characteristics was that Scarred was a student and VolDeMort was working—a businessman younger than himself. He still honestly couldn't see how the two could stand each other, never mind working together as seamlessly as they did, but it all magically worked out between the two and had been before he had come along. Sometimes he would catch snippets from their conversations and the many they included him in about the time before their third member, where the two were an all-out offensive duo team. It was somewhat amazing to Severus that they had won as many PvP battles as they had, and rose up the ranks almost as quickly as the rise of VolDeMort.

_Tonight is the night_, Severus mockingly remarked in his head. Scarred always came on last, so it looked like he would be speaking with VolDeMort first. Admittedly a bit intimidating in the beginning, the man then became known in his head as a very similar person as he was—snarky and sarcastic, cynical and cunning.

Without further hesitation, he logged on and accepted the party invite that came not soon after. It was time to meet the first of his teammates.

"Ah, Prince," a smooth, baritone voice echoed out of his speakers, "Finally we meet." The man was handsome, noted Severus, with sharp features and a strong gaze; definitely younger than he was, perhaps by seven years or more, but altogether knowledgeable and experienced.

"VolDeMort," Severus greeted in return, "Indeed. Am I late?"

"You know you aren't," VolDeMort replied amusedly. "The imp should be on momentarily, five minutes about."

Severus hummed in reply. "Has there been any news on the next Episode release?"

"None," VolDeMort stated in mild distaste, "All they've given us from yesterday's server check was that the next legendary boss would be Phaeron. No location peek, no quest preview, no drop information."

"Wonderful," Severus sarcastically said, "I bet when the brat gets on, he'll be spouting off exact stats, general plot line, _and_ rare drop descriptions, with added market predictions on the side."

"Where he gets his information, we'll never know," the dark lord agreed.

"When do you suppose the Inner Circle meeting will be?" Severus was curious; he had been with Deathly Hollows for awhile, but still could not quite get a grip on Serpentine's IC meetings. They were not sporadic or spontaneous, but one was forced to find out about the IC meeting on their own, and thus could only attend that way. No one in Slytherin went out of their way to warn you, especially because the Inner Circle was meant for the top ranks of the clan.

"A week," VolDeMort replied slowly, "Perhaps nine days after the next patch. Either that, or Serpentine won't arrange for an Inner Circle meeting at all and we'll go straight to the Faction rendezvous cold."

"They _have _done that before," commented Severus, "but the artwork for Phaeron makes him seem more of a burst boss. I can't see Baron letting us dive in with no warnings at all. It would reflect poorly on our clan." Burst bosses were, after all, notorious for their high player death rate the first few runs. Going in against such high attack blind was something very few could do and succeed, and Slytherin had a reputation of having the highest survival rates in a legendary boss run.

"We'll all end up getting the information from other sources anyways," waved off VolDeMort, "So I don't see any significant difference. Scarred will keep us up to date."

"Naturally." The brat had a goldmine of sources in his possession, keeping in touch with the networks even as he himself was an obscure player. "How _did _the brat get into contact with Serpentine anyways? He doesn't exactly put himself out to be one of the Lords."

VolDeMort tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. He held an unofficial seat of a 'Lord', which was a player that earned himself enough recognition, respect, and reputation, added with power, to be considered one of the Elite in the upper clans. Scarred, as far as Severus knew, did not hold a seat as a 'Lord', but damn well should. "The imp is on very good terms with the Baron. I don't think the rest of Walpurgisnacht is held in such good favor as Scarred."

Severus grimaced at the mention of the Baron's team. "Who exactly _can _be on good terms with the Baron?"

"LadyGrey," VolDeMort replied simply.

"…Point."

_Player Scarred has logged on!_

"He's early," noted the dark lord, his eyes trained on the sage as he raised a brow.

Severus couldn't help feeling excited—only slightly, of course—about meeting the berserker. Who was Scarred? What was he like in real life? Perhaps he'd finally unravel the long-time mystery. "Invite him then, I suppose," he sighed, acting contrary to how he felt.

Almost immediately as the player accepted, a young, familiar male voice echoed out of Severus' speakers. "Voldie Voldie!" it cried rapidly, "Guess what! The Baron says—"The voice cut off mid sentence with no warning, and Severus wondered of it until the picture finally loaded.

On the screen, completely unexpected with mouth agape and eyes wide, was one of his own students—Harry James Potter.

"Pr—Professor Snape?!" Potter stuttered out in disbelief bordering horror, blinking rapidly to try and connect his brain with his sight. "Is that—? What…!"

"P—Potter…?!" Severus wasn't completely sure if he had just been seeing a Potter look-alike, certainly there would be _one _in the entire world, but now this just had confirmed that this was his student. Son of his best friend. Acting completely out of character. _Scarred…? _The two simply _couldn't _connect in his mind.

Riddle looked on in interest and something else reflected in his eyes, though he said nothing.

"Sir, what are you doing…" Potter trailed off after trying (and slightly failing) to regain his wits. The unspoken _here _was recognized, however.

"I should be asking _you_ that, Potter," Severus sneered, falling back into his disdainful teacher persona. It wasn't completely opposite of his true personality, but he was admittedly harsher and more likely to snap at someone. "Aren't you supposed to be studying and what not?"

Potter snorted. "Yeah, well, aren't _you _supposed to be stamping Fs on some poor soul's test about now?" As soon as the last word slipped out of his mouth, he froze and stiffened, an odd expression washing over his face. "Er, I mean…"

"What _insolence_," he spat, "Took that right from your father, didn't you, Potter? I certainly can't blame you, being raised with those _mongrels_…"

"You have no right to say anything!"

"_Oh? _And _why _is that?"

"Well, _sir, _for all the insolence you claim I have, I'm sure you have ten times more! For one, _you _certainly don't live in my house, under the same roof as I do, or even interact with my family on a daily basis!"

"Thankfully _not, _Potter! That fool you call a father would've contaminated the air with his two mangy dogs, with what how they flaunt themselves so degradingly, and _I _certainly wouldn't—"

"Oh, so you're saying my mother has been contaminated with some _plague _now? Are you _implying _that my _mother _is no better than a _whore?_"

Severus choked on his spit. "You brat! How dare you speak such things about your mother!"

"_I'm _only repeating what _you've_ so insensibly implied! It takes _two _to tango, _sir, _and if you think my father sired me alone, you've got another thing coming!"

"Show some respect to your elders, boy!"

"Takes some respect to give any, _sir_!" Potter snapped right back.

"Only because you lack any to begin with!"

"Oh, _hmm, I wonder why?_ Can't possibly be because of a certain _elder _setting a _bad example,_ can it?"

"I'll certainly agree with you _there. _That father of yours might be even worse than that useless mutt you call a godfather—"

"Sirius is a far better man than you could ever be!"

Severus scoffed. "Is he _even a man at all?_"

"Certainly shows where _you _are, huh?"

"_You—_"

"Scarred, meet Prince; Prince, meet Scarred," VolDeMort cut in, tone bland and bored, though what his expression showed was completely contrary. "Make nice, children."

Severus shuddered. Then, the dark lord's words sank in.

"_What?!_"

The resounding sentiment was echoed by both combating players.

"…Voldie, I think you've made a mistake. _That _can't be Prince," Potter said, making a vague motion to the side of his screen where Severus was probably displayed.

"I'm afraid you've invited someone to the wrong chat room, VolDeMort," Severus agreed, though in such a way where it wouldn't seem so. "Scarred is in no way similar to Potter."

VolDeMort did not look amused. "Clearly, you two know each other," he began, and both of his companions nodded decisively. "And clearly, there is some bad blood between you two." They both nodded again. "Very well. Scarred, meet Prince; Prince, meet Scarred."

Potter opened his mouth to spout out some disagreement, but the dark lord shot him a look. "That's Prince," VolDeMort said, and then turning to Severus' side, "That's Scarred. Believe it. And if either of the two of you begin fighting again, _someone _might be _unfortunately maimed_ in some type of _incident_."

Potter pouted. "But—"

"_Imp._"

"…Kay."

Severus paused for a split-second in his irrational rage to think for a bit. This might look like Potter, might sound like Potter, might have all the information Potter had, but he acted like Scarred. Scarred wasn't quiet, wasn't a recluse, never argued, and most definitely didn't pout. The closest thing he had seen to be _somewhat _close was a frown, and even then, it was such a small tilt of the lips it could hardly count—!

Potter stared at him warily, cautious and distasteful, green eyes guarded with a certain type of disdain he couldn't label. It was a type of emotion familiar to him, to dislike someone, but never had he had it directed back at him in almost the exact same way.

VolDeMort sighed and pressed his fingertips to his forehead. "You chose him," he stated tiredly.

"…I know…" Potter mumbled.

"Don't be a child," VolDeMort chided belittlingly.

"…I'm not…"

"_Imp…_"

"But _Voldie—!_" whined Potter, and a sigh was his reply.

"You gave me hell when we first got him, so don't you _dare _put up a fight _now._"

It only vaguely just dawned on Severus that they were talking about _him._ He scowled. "I'd much prefer you both _not_ refer to me like a pet," he drawled.

The two stared at him, creating a three way staring contest. Finally, Potter broke.

"Truce, Professor Snape?" he sighed.

Severus considered it. The fact that _Potter _was _Scarred_ still sounded incredibly _wrong_ in his head, but if they were one in the same… then wasn't it _Potter _who 'picked him up'? Who welcomed him to the team, despite his teammate's ire? Who brought him into the devious but intriguing Serpentine clan? Who opened the opportunity for—dare he say it—actually _looking forward _to something when he got home?

Who persistently latched onto him like a leech, and never let go until he surrendered willingly?

Even by description, that person definitely didn't sound like Potter, but here he was, talking to VolDeMort like no one else could, complaining and whining and acting like Scarred… He wasn't being impassive, wasn't pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he read a textbook, wasn't quietly doing his work as other students shook in terror of messing up…

Potter wasn't being Potter, but _this_ Potter seemed more like the one he had seen all those years ago... who was consequently closer to Scarred, now that he thought about it.

"Very well," Severus grudgingly agreed.

VolDeMort smiled predatorily. "Now that the introductions are over… Prince, you've been officially warned, and Scarred, what was that about the Baron?"

Potter brightened marginally, ignoring the harsh tone his team mate began with. "The Baron said we're going to be co-hosts for the first run of Phaeron! Serpentine's leading this round, apparently, because LadyGrey and HeadlessNick both agreed to it and we all know FatFriar is rather compliant about, oh, everything, so Slytherin's got the vote for the Elite Rendezvous next week—"

"We're co-hosting with the Baron," stated VolDeMort.

"Yep! Isn't this great?"

"BloodyBaron."

"Mhmm."

"The first ranked team leader, BloodyBaron."

"Is there any other that I don't know about?"

"Baron, as in the player who's smitten with you."

"Actually, Helena's his OTL—"

"_Baron_."

"Voldie, I think I've said yes about three times, so—"

"Why aren't you in Walpurgisnacht?"

Potter laughed, and it was as if everything went back to normal. Severus slowly relaxed throughout their night runs, easing back into his role of team support. He began to join in their conversations again, and by the end of the night, the tension and disbelief in the air had all but disappeared. Vanished. It sort of left him at an imbalance once he logged off—what the hell was going to happen tomorrow?

Severus figured that he'd just leave things as it is. Potter hadn't said anything, hadn't even bothered to mention school or call him "Professor Snape" after their 'truce' was made, so he supposed he'd return the same courtesy. It still bothered him though, the fact that the Potter in school was so different from Scarred. You had a right, of course, to be as free as you wanted to be from your original personality online, but there was only so far a person could stretch from their base. Potter seemed to burn those limits and turn back to laugh at the fire five miles away.

It was almost fitting; a Potter could never be so quiet and studious. Something in their family line just… _prevented _it. Their wild, messy hair was another staple that made a Potter a Potter. _Of course_ something had been wrong when Harry James Potter first walked into his classroom, hair tamer than his father's and cradling two thick novels in his arms. He should've seen this coming.

Severus really, really should've seen it coming… but he didn't, and he doubted that he would've even if it was a raging goat charging at him with a bright red jester hat decorated with unicorns, a "Potter is Scarred!" flag waving in the background.

Severus sighed. Sometimes, he just didn't know anymore.

Back in the chat room, which, contrary to Severus Snape's belief, was actually still active, the two founders of Deathly Hollows sat in an extended silence.

Tom broke it. "'Professor Snape'?" he asked expectantly.

Harry released the breath he had been holding. "My chemistry teacher," he explained, "In my current school. We're not… He doesn't…"

Tom raised a brow.

"He's my mother's childhood friend and my father's worst enemy," Harry finally managed to say, "And we don't get along very well."

"Clearly."

The younger scowled. "Hey!"

"You might not get along well with that 'Professor Snape'," Tom continued, ignoring the squawk of his companion, "But you care enough about Prince to try."

"…I chose Prince," Harry agreed, "Not Snape."

"In only a few months, we've gone far together," he murmured, "but not far enough. You know I would've expelled him if you simply asked me to."

"But you've gotten attached to him too," Harry lightly accused, "haven't you?"

"Perhaps a bit," admitted Tom, "But you're far more important; Prince isn't a necessary component of our team. _You _picked him up, not me." _He doesn't have what we have._

The berserker smiled. He knew his friend well. "Yeah, well, I like Prince. Snape, not so much but I can try, I suppose." _I know. I remember._

Tom inclined his head. "The minute you want to get rid of him, tell me so."

"You make it sound _so cruel_…"

Snorting, Tom shot his companion an amused look. "Have you forgotten who I am, imp? Perhaps it _has _been too long."

"Shut up Voldie. I can remember perfectly fine how big of an arsehole you were when we first met."

Tom made some sort of elegant shrug. "Prince joined for you, and Prince will also be expelled for you," he said, steering them back to the original subject, "If you wish. There's no reason to have a teammate that you hate with all the fiber of your being."

"I don't hate Snape," Harry mumbled, "Just… strong dislike. Not even despise. And I like Prince!"

"You do," agreed Tom with a bit of bite.

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "Aww, don't worry Voldie; you'll always be number one on my list."

"And what list would that be?"

"The 'Buttholes I Love to Hate' list."

"_Imp…_"

"Don't worry. Snape's a far second."

* * *

**SO... Yeah. Really late update. All I can say is: I had a lot of this chapter typed out, didn't like it, deleted it, school interfered. Eventually, this was born... and though you're probably disappointed with the little content, I can happily say we're getting to the end of the tournament next chapter.**

**And after that, the game plot begins! Sort of! I think! Maybe! ...Yeah I don't know what I'm doing xD.**

**Good news-sort-of-bad-news! School keeps me away from the word documents and The Game has totally sucked me dry of the magic part of the HP fandom, so I've been working on a new story (should be a oneshot with possible sequels) that is a magical canon divergence Locket!Creeper!TMR/HP slash and NOT a dark fic. Yeah, you heard me! Locket!TMR that is a creeper at the same time... depending on your definition of a creeper lol. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, seeing as Locket!TMR will be OOC compared to canon!Voldemort, but I'm using my creative license here. **

**It's less than 30% done, because the one shot is very, very, very long (in my standards), but I've got the whole plot laid out. All that I have to do is write it, and that's easier said than done.**

**So, once I _do_ post it/finish it/actually get some work done on it, I hope you guys will come check it out! Its roots stretch to a week before the first chapter of The Game came out (basically, my first TMR/HP idea that had some merit), and is finally in the works of being written! **

**Reminders: I answer all my reviews, so if you have any questions, go ahead and send me one! I'll answer your questions :). Also, my profile will be getting some information about The Game's CoS community, like known teams and known moves; stuff like that. Come check it out! It's still in the works though. I'll be seeing ya'll in the next chapter!**

**Sincerely,**

**-R.R.**


	17. Quest XIV: Defeat

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

**Important Note: **If you read this chapter before I edited it, then you'll see that there is a difference in names for the rank 2 spot: SrsGG and NightWalkers. This has now been fixed-in the announcement they are now referred to as SrsGG. NightWalkers was my original choice in name, but I decided to change it for completely spontaneous reasons. This note will be posted in the next chapter as well. Thanks!

For those of you who haven't read the chapter yet and totally don't know what I'm talking about, ignore this please.

* * *

_**T**his was it. The decisive battle. Scarred could feel it in his veins, adrenaline pumping and heart thudding in his chest. His sword's handle was clenched in his hands, positioned to defend or charge depending how the first few moments would go._

_But the opposing team was not made of amateurs. They knew it too; how high the stakes were and how close of a fight this could be._

Scarred's eyes flickered about the area, scouting out the tiniest muscle movement of his opponents. His two team mates stood slightly behind him, and he knew they, too, were posed to attack or defend at a moment's notice. In this case, _he _would be their signal, and it was all the more reason to be alert. Ready. On his toes.

Before him, one of the enemy warriors shifted their blade and in turn, Scarred also shifted his position. When no other movements had been made, he knew it was a false call. The berserker held his ground, letting his team mates know that it was not the time yet.

The battle had started long ago, only lacking the sounds of impact and clashing, though it made it no less of a fight than their previous match ups.

One mistake here would cost them severely. They couldn't mess up—couldn't risk anything. All they could do now was hope the other team would be the first to step out of line.

An archer's bow stretched the tension in the air, and part of Scarred's attention shifted to the player while the rest remained on the team as a whole. Another false call. He licked his lips, feeling how dry and chapped they were already. One of the front line warriors flicked his attention to the slight movement, and Scarred knew they were just as alert as he was.

A moment's distraction would be game over.

Finally, the bishop standing in the back lines opened his mouth and began the Hymn of the Angels, as if he could take the standstill no longer. The speed buff gave a great advantage to the other team, and Scarred quickly lead his in a swift retreat; a wise idea as the next second, the spot where they had stood was bombarded with a number of spells.

As the blinding streaks of power calmed, Scarred darted in through the distraction, having his sage bless him with personal buffs just a moment before. He managed to catch them off guard with the speed he dashed in with, but that wasn't quite enough to cause an upset. After dealing out some minor damage, the warm comfort of an aura bind pulled him back to his dark lord without any consequence.

The two teams returned to their original spots quickly, only this time their pause wouldn't last nearly as long.

They clashed again; short and quick while dealing and taking damage. If they stayed locked in combat for too long, someone would end up dying, and neither team wanted that. Instead, both sides took pains to poke and harass, darting in too close but managing to chip away at health at the same time. It wouldn't last much longer, Scarred knew, and the real fight would start soon…

He couldn't help but pray they could knock off a team member on the other side before that. It would be the ideal situation—but nothing in this fight gave them any type of advantage. They were in this cold. They all knew—even the other team.

It didn't matter. They moved.

The feeling of _darkness_ swept in, just as it always did when Scarred knew his partner was on the offensive. It was invigorating, really; the smooth warmth that was not heat but _feeling_, and secretly he credited this steroid to their victories. How many times had he gone into a fight, wondering if they would surface victorious or not? Whether it was with two or three people, their team was always smaller than the other, if not equal in amount.

But it never mattered—not anymore—not when the comfort of having someone behind you, guarding you, who knew you _like the back of their own hand_ there… nothing would ever compare and beneath it, Scarred preened as he darted into battle.

Big or small, win or lose, he was never a big fan of details. He fought because he could—because he would fight with _them_, his team, his closest companions of all.

The clash lasted just a moment longer than the previous. It was quick, to the point, and hardly a battle of skill—rather, a massive explosion of abilities and whether or not they missed. One death occurred—on the other team, an archer who had only just been in range because of an unlucky shuffle to the side—but Scarred was not fooled. One death was not the end of the fight.

Not yet.

They continued this motion several times; no other losses occurring on either side, but clearly the enemies were playing slightly more cautious relative to their positioning. Their skills were not focused into aiming and fighting, but rather positioning, as the skirmishes did not last long at all. Aiming was already like breathing to them. They knew their attacks would hit no problem if the enemy side did not move.

But that was wishful thinking.

And then it happened—the tank of the opposing team dashed in as one of the clashes began to dissipate, catching everyone—even his teammates—off guard. He darted forwards and grabbed Prince, easily tossing the player behind him and away from his team. Everyone reacted at once.

Prince quickly slowed all of the enemies in his radius, managing to dart out as VolDeMort snared the tank and killed the opposing bishop who was trying to move forward with his team with an enormous burst. Scarred darted forward, but not at the other team—rather, the tank. He knocked him up, piercing the player with the tip of his sword and hitting the enemies who tried to get closer.

Immediately after taking off that chunk of health, Scarred retreated back into the safety of distance and his companions.

The bishop was down. They had the upper edge—for now. A major downside to that move was Prince using his slow, which took the longest time to recharge. If that happened again, Scarred doubted if they could save their sage.

Positioning was adjusted without a word. They knew what they needed to do.

No more clashes took place. Everyone knew they had their disadvantages, and fighting recklessly would not win any fights right now. Small long ranged shots kept everyone moving, circling the other as they tried to find a safe opening. The opposing team never gave them one.

Then, Deathly Hollows made a grievous mistake.

The Paladin from the opposing team saw it first before the trio was given a chance to correct it. He charged in, swinging his shining blade and stunning them all. They had been too close—had gotten into charging range. The Paladin's teammates swooped in, throwing out their combos like no tomorrow, trying to bring down Prince first.

It looked like it was over, but the other team had made a mistake too. They had focused the wrong player.

Prince disappeared in a flash of light, but had been able to heal his companions one last time as the stun had worn off just in time. Scarred and VolDeMort immediately took advantage of this, and the former tumbled past most of the other team to strike out at the mage. The latter quickly followed up, and the player died in the blink of an eye.

The two companions continued forward in a retreat, swerving off to different sides and spinning around, completely bypassing their opponents as they moved in their own random manner. They met up with each other on the other side, completely calm as the long ranged damage dealers were gone.

If you were going to focus someone in Deathly Hollows, be it one of the two founders, as killing off their support would not cripple them like it would another. They would simply change to being each other's supports.

_Three down, three to go,_ Scarred mused.

A small angle shift of his wrists returned the berserker to a fighting position, ready as the aura of his partner pulsed behind him. They had originally been an all out offensive team, and that had worked for them. Right now, the opposing team would find out just _how well _they pulled it off.

One more damage dealer before everything was in the bag. The bandit king's cautious attitude had started since the fight began, but to win this match, he would need to start making plays. All players knew this—the tension increased.

Scarred didn't care. He moved.

Immediately, both warriors moved to shield their bandit king from the incoming damage, which they successfully absorbed. The berserker's rally and continuous attacks did not stop, and so the main damage dealer stayed in his place and returned the barrage, something that a good player would know to do. When to leave, when to fight, and when to fool. It looked as if it was time to fight, and that would certainly be the case if not for the fact that they misjudged the berserker's goal. Scarred's goal was not the bandit king. That was VolDeMort's.

Whom they had completely forgotten about.

A sludge of darkness pounced upon the opposing players, consuming them and dealing massive damage. Scarred's barrage of attacks had managed to lower the health of the paladin enough so that he died instantly, causing the battle to turn into a two versus two. The tank, who had just been released from the stun, flung both characters away with a desperate swing of his sword, which they both allowed.

The bandit king was nowhere in sight. Had he died too, and they had simply missed the tell-tale flash in the explosion of skills?

Well. No matter. It was looking bad for the tank now, and the duo began to close in on their prey. He tried to fight back in vain; the damage dealt simply wasn't enough. Scarred took it all, flinging his attacks lazily at his foe while VolDeMort's dark magic caused him to go up in a cylinder of blinding light. However, another cylinder went up just as quickly as the first.

Scarred was dead. VolDeMort tensed.

"_He's still alive!"_

An innocent gust of wind rustled the arena.

Immediately, the dark lord shadow shifted to the side, narrowly dodging the incoming blade of the missing bandit king. Returning to form, VolDeMort fired off a shot of dark magic, which was just as closely dodged as the enemy charged forward in relentless pursuit. A game of cat and mouse ensued, magic being flung about and blades catching light at _just_ the right angle…

They seemed to circle each other in a fast pace, running in a pattern that was only identifiable to themselves. VolDeMort knew they both had their fair share of disadvantages—his health was low, as was his mana, and the bandit king had the ability to stealth and speed to top it off. On the other hand, said player's health was daringly low as well, and if a skill shot connected, the bandit king was as good as dead.

This was not about skill. This was not about ability.

This was about luck, and damn it, that was how it was going to end.

VolDeMort took a chance. He shadow shifted, and instead of swerving to the side, headed in the direction he knew the bandit king would be charging in. The move managed to catch the player off guard, and as VolDeMort easily dodged beneath him and reappeared to shoot several bursts of power off, the player turned as well and darted off in the only move that would reach the dark lord at such a range.

_Two flashes of light went off._

_Breaths were held._

_And the clear sign of defeat was shown in glaring red in front of Scarred's face._

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry jolted back into reality, eyes going wide as he was faced with a furious Severus Snape. "S-Sir," he managed to get out as the vividness of his daydream began to disappear.

"Do you _think_," the professor began menacingly, "that you could_ get away with sleeping_ in. My. _Class?!_"

Harry bit his tongue, knowing that it was best if he didn't speak a word.

"Detention today, _with me_!"

"…Yes sir."

Class continued, students looking desperate to begin whispering to their neighbors about what had just occurred but fearing the wrath of their teacher. When the dismissal bell rung, it seemed like everyone burst to life in the halls as rumors began to spread. Harry sighed.

"Harry!" Granger cried as she ran up beside him, "What happened in there?! You _never_ zone out in class! Are you getting enough sleep?"

"I'm fine, Hermione," he answered cordially, small smile trying to reassure her. "Just… lost myself a bit. It won't happen again. Look—I need to go see Madame Delacour; there's some things I need to take care of. See you later, okay?"

She didn't manage to get in a word as he rushed off to his destination.

Luna came up beside her, smiling dreamily and looking like she had been there the whole time. Most likely, she had been. "Don't worry, Hermione," she said reassuringly. "Harry will be fine."

The star female student frowned. "How do you know?"

"Defeat is necessary for the greatest of victories," was the blonde's simple reply.

Over at Madame Delacour's classroom, Harry exited with a small folder filled with papers. There was apparently going to be a new transfer student soon—God knows why so late, especially in his final year before college—and the boy was apparently a distant cousin of hers. In addition to their small conversation about Harry's extra classes, his teacher had asked him to run the errand of making copies of papers that said transfer student would need. He had agreed, and so here he was, walking down the halls where some students mingled and others quickly moved towards their meeting spots.

A loss, his first detention ever, and a feeling of utter pessimism for the future. Harry sighed.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket brought him out of his depressing thoughts, and he mindlessly brought it out to check what he knew was a text message.

From Tom, apparently.

_www_._euw_._chamberofsecrets_._com/forum/update-discussions/newest-update-opinions/t198131_._html_

Harry raised a brow, but nonetheless clicked on the link. He was directed to a thread on the new system update, which apparently had some type of passive buff for players…?

_Slytherclaw101: __So, as many of you guys probably have already seen, Muggle Games is releasing a new system to celebrate the end of the ranking matches. And fuck, will it ever change PvP… after the patch it'll only be active for PvE and normal PvP, but I'm not doubting for a minute that this'll soon be integrated into ranking matches and tourneys. What do you guys think?_

_SoNoobPwnage:__ Dude, if you're going to make a post like this, might wanna post what the update IS? Thanks a lot noob_

_Prioritizer: __STFU troll. Now, for people who are actually curious and haven't READ THE FUCKING UPDATE from the official page, I'll sum it up for you. The new system can sort of compare to the soul mate system in EO, which means we're getting buffs if certain people are registered as certain things on the new page we're getting. They'll be passives, basically. Muggle is also encouraging for some creativity over with its players, limiting the bond to (gee, bet you can't guess) being between two players, however nothing is stopping you from splitting your teams into pairs and bonding up that way to take advantage of it. However, the passives will change depending on a random system so maximum abuse can't occur. There's also an unconfirmed rumor (the only one unconfirmed about this from being total BS) floating around on this being a set up for something bigger, but like I've said this is entirely unofficial and if you want to believe it, be my guest, but I'm not going to trust anything until it's been announced in EU or any other server._

_NyanNyanNyan:__** Prioritizer** strikes again! Thanks for the summary ^_^ glad that you've cleared up some confusions :P_

_ROFLOLKICKS:__ Uh, considering that I was a spectator for that kick-ass fight yesterday night, and I sure as hell know I wasn't the only one, is anyone else thinking about a CERTAIN TEAM who's going to get CERTAIN BENEFITS and most CERTAINLY WILL MILK THIS FOR ALL ITS WORTH because they know how to kick ass even though the passive buffs will be "entirely random"?_

_CharybdisXx:__** ROFLOLKICKS** ….fuck. If you're talking about who I'm thinking you're talking about, we're all screwed season 3 lmao._

_Slytherclaw101: __Completely agree with you **ROFLOLKICKS** and **CharybisXx**. Considering we all know who was more skilled in yesterday night's fight, I say we just throw next season if we get matched up against 'em. Live to fight another day._

_FanGasm:__ Wise words, **Slytherclaw101**. DH is going to kick all of our asses next season with this patch. Well, I was totally on their side the whole way anyways lol, sort of disappointing that they lost, but there was really nothing anyone could do about bad luck. Awesome fight nonetheless._

_SoNoobPwnage:__ STFU DH fangirls. Team SrsGG won that fight. Stop whining about it lolol if DH needs this patch to win, they still don't deserve rank 2_

_ROFLOLKICKS:__ To quote Prioritizer, STFU yourself troll. Everyone knows DH was better team-coordination wise, hell even SrsGG said at the end that JustForKicks got lucky with that last shot and they probably wouldn't have won otherwise. VolDeMort and Scarred's co-op play was a fucking beast in season 1, and it's still a fucking beast now pre-season 2. Korea doesn't stand a chance in world championships. _

_FanGasm:__ Yeah. They're gonna dominate. Baron's in the right to choose them as co-rule. Back on topic, I'm seriously curious how this patch is going to work… I mean, what if you get a really bad random passive roll? Whatcha gonna do about that? Muggle is going to get a lot of complaints :/_

_Slytherclaw101:__ If there's one thing about Muggle that the whole community loves to pieces, it's the fact that they never fail in appeasing their players without smothering us. I certainly trust them to make sure this new system works out, and am looking forward to its release._

_Gryffindorocks:__ Regardless of the fact that I'm totally squealing about the player passive buffs (that's bloody wicked, and you all know it…), I can't help but echo what is most likely going to be the sentiment for the rest of this thread: VolDeMort and Scarred are going to rape us. _

…

True to the post, the rest of the thread continued in that vein for awhile, alternating between discussions about the rumors, more discussion about possible methods of making this system work, comments about disliking and liking the idea, and random interjections of "Deathly Hollows going to be OP T_T".

Unconsciously, a genuine smile began to inch its way up Harry's mouth until he was trying to refrain from grinning madly.

_Interested, imp?_

_Loveyousomuchrightnow, lol. Thanks for telling me early, would've had to wait until after dinner before I found out._

_Think nothing of it. Though, you could thank me by bringing me a trifle this weekend?_

…_I'm surprised you aren't fat yet. What kind?_

_Surprise me._

Harry chuckled, and then continued on in his task with a much lighter air about him. This time, they would go to the championships. It was time to move up.

The very next day, Harry walked downstairs expecting the smell of breakfast and the loud sound of his family's conversation. Instead, he was met with the smell of breakfast-in-process-of and the sound of an announcer.

"What are you doing?" he asked his father, Sirius, and Remus when he saw them leaning eagerly toward a laptop screen.

"Shhh," Sirius shushed without even looking in Harry's direction.

"—_The conclusion of the online Ranking matches is clear! The top 5 will be heading off as the favored teams for the regional playoffs, five more teams being collected from the next tournaments that will begin in the next week. The top two winners of the regional playoffs will then move on to the World Championship, where they will face off against the other top teams from Korea, China, North America, and others._

_Last year, the winners to go to the Championship were team Walpurgisnacht and SrsGG from Slytherin Faction! They held their ranks this year but, though third rank Deathly Hollows were defeated in the ranking matches again, there is still a chance for them to take the stage this season due to their close game! Will we be seeing them in the WC?_

_If so, it will be the first time they will reveal themselves live! Deathly Hollows has never participated in live competitions, notoriously remaining anonymous in their online domination, and it will certainly be a treat for everyone if we get to see them in the World Championships!_

_Regardless, the newest announcement from Muggle Games declares a new style for this second season of Chamber of Secrets, something that has been secretly in the works since season one! No other details have been released by the game creators, but bits of information will be revealed as the timer for the world championship ticks down._

_We'll be looking forward to seeing the loyal fans of Chamber of Secrets in the nearest tournament! Until then, keep adventuring, wizards!"_

It only took a second before Harry darted upstairs again. He threw a flimsy excuse back towards his mother, who was watching on in amusement with breakfast making its way onto the table, and practically pounced on his bed, grabbing at the place he knew his phone would be. He tussled about for a bit, finally managing to settle on his back with his legs twisted in the blankets in some haphazard position, but rather than being embarrassed, Harry focused all of his attention on his phone as he dialed in a number.

"_Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for school?" _said Tom in his teasing, smooth tone that Harry had gotten accustomed to.

"New announcement on the website. Go watch it!"

A snort was heard from the other line. _"No good morning?"_

Harry rolled his eyes. "Good morning, Tom," he said patiently.

"_Good morning, Harry."_

"…Go watch the announcement."

"_I'm at work, as you've so obviously forgotten,"_ Tom chided, "_I'll watch it later. Go eat breakfast."_

"…'Kay," he grumbled. "Talk to you tonight and see you tomorrow?"

"_Obviously,"_ the elder replied airily. _"Go eat. If you get detention again, I hold the right to cruelly mock you."_

"That was one time!"

"_Imp."_

"…Bye."

* * *

**Yeah. So. Uh, this chapter was supposed to be longer, but I decided to make it as a transition chapter so you don't get too much info holed up in one big blob. Good news is, now that this stupid fight scene is over (aha, I slaved over it ;_;), we get to work on Tom and Harry development! Yayyy! Back to doing what I love to do :p.**

**I'd apologize for posting this chapter way late, but the fact of the matter is that I got stuck on the fight scene for a very long time, and therefore actually did not have this chapter finished and simply refused to post it. This was actually finished yesterday night.**

**So, we get some hints on future game-conflict, last fight for the ranking matches is done, you get to see some Harry-Tom interaction (even if its not face to face), and Harry gets detention. All in one da-well actually, no. It wasn't all in one day. ...Yeah, I've got nothin' witty to say. Sorry guys.**

**On another note, thanks so much for 130+ reviews! Ahh, I love you all so much! With that said, if you guys have any questions or comments, feel free to drop a PM/another review for me! I'll get back to you 100% (unless, of course, you review anonymously. Then I can't do anything about that ]:!)**

**Before I forget, I'd also like to direct you, my loyal readers, to one of my other stories... Blood Stained and Lettered, a implied-if-you-squint LV/HP letter fic. It's a oneshot, but if I feel like it, I'll add some extras to it. Erm, it's not all happy and fluffy like The Game, but I'd still love it if you check it out and review! **

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	18. Quest XV: Decisions, Decisions

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**H**arry hummed contemplatively as he lounged about on one of Tom's contemporary couches, completely lax and stretched out like a contented cat after a meal. Technically speaking, they had just eaten a couple minutes ago, perfectly relaxed on a Sunday afternoon.

The reason being of why, exactly, Harry was here was nothing short of a simple answer: no one was home. Everyone had gone off to run their own errands, coincidentally ending with him being left to his own devices, and while this wouldn't be a problem originally, he had already finished all of his work on Friday. Thus, with no family outing or grouping to tag along in, he had texted Tom.

Who told him to stop being coy and come over.

In the end, it all whined down to Harry in Tom's kitchen, making random things with what he had to make do with. Not that either of them minded. It wasn't exactly the first time since the whole tiramisu thing that Harry had come over, though they did usually meet at the park, and while the first few times had certainly been like a friend just coming over to visit, it ended up degrading into feeling like it was a second home to him. Never mind the fact that "degrading" could easily be thought of as "improving", but, well, it was all about perspective, right?

Absentmindedly, he plopped another starburst in his mouth and continued on with wasting the whole day away. This was much better than staying at home with absolutely nothing to do. Now he was at Tom's, lazing the hours past and not caring at all.

Soft, barely-there footsteps sounded behind him—most likely silent to anyone who didn't have such acute hearing—and Harry casually turned his head to see Tom's figure coming back from the kitchen. A mug of hot chocolate was placed down on the table beside him, and like every good person who just received a free drink would do, Harry mumbled his thanks through a twisting tongue and square of candy.

Tom made some noise of acknowledgement. Then, comfortably seated on the opposite sofa with a book in hand, gave his companion an odd look.

"…What are you doing?"

Harry made a sound in the back of his throat, lazily holding up a finger to indicate his need for a second of time. He used the same hand to gently pluck out a slightly wrinkled wrapper from between his lips, which ended up going in the neatly stacked pile of other wrappers inside a bowl. Then, he idly chewed the bare candy left in his mouth, taking his time with answering.

"Eating starbursts. It's really hard to unwrap it in your mouth—I've been practicing for a couple days," Harry finally replied.

Tom shot him an unimpressed look. "Why?"

"Dunno," Harry shrugged, grinning as he thought back on the times he had multitasked, having done his homework while unwrapping starbursts in his mouth. "But I think I finally got it down!"

Tom predictably snorted. Then, he reached over the table separating them and snatched one of his companion's candies. Raising it up before him, making a gesture with it that easily caught Harry's attention, he then threw it lightly in the air and caught it inside his mouth.

Harry's eyes were entirely focused on Tom.

A second later, the elder of the two easily pulled a wrapper from between his lips; much like Harry had done just a moment before. "See?" Tom asked rhetorically, holding up the perfectly intact rectangle to show. He then went back to his book as if he had not done anything mildly impressive at all.

Harry gaped. Then groaned. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"Cook," the man replied immediately, flipping a page as he answered without looking up.

"Well, yeah," Harry waved a hand dismissively, even though his companion wasn't looking in his direction. "But I meant besides that."

Tom sighed. "Harry, I don't think unwrapping sweets in your mouth counts as a valuable skill."

"But you can do _something_!" he vehemently said, flinging his arms in the air to emphasize his words. "It's rather like tying a knot inside your mouth using a cherry stem—not really useful, but people are still amazed you can do it!"

Once again, Tom snorted.

"…You can do that, too, can't you?" Harry asked with narrowing eyes.

"Whether or not I can tie a cherry stem into a knot using only my teeth and tongue is entirely irrelevant," replied Tom abruptly.

"Is not! You just unwrapped a starburst in your mouth!"

"Imp, I'm not having this conversation with you."

A minute passed.

"…So… how long did it take for you to learn how to do that?"

Tom sighed. "Do what?" he drawled.

"Tie a cherry stem in your mouth," Harry answered immediately. His companion set his book down and gave him an exasperated look. "What? I sort of want to learn how! …Hey, I wonder if Severus can do that too."

"I dare you to bring a cherry to school and ask him."

Harry laughed enthusiastically. "No way! He'd murder me!"

After his laughter had calmed, Harry stretched and rolled over on the couch. He laid on his stomach, staring at his companion who had once again picked up his book. Honestly, they weren't doing much, but being near each other was calming for him—sort of like it was still so surreal to be able to spend time with his companion in the day, even though they had been doing this for some time now.

"So, if I had a bag of skittles, which color would you choose first?"

"_Harry…_"

"Colors say a lot about people! Come on, Tom, taste the rainbow!"

Tom made an odd expression, making no sound but looking as if he had choked on something. "…I can't believe you just said that."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, well, I'm feeling sort of weird today… and no it's not because the hot chocolate's finally gotten to me."

His companion huffed. "Clearly."

"…Well?"

"…"

"Tom?"

"Green," he finally said.

Harry hummed, not surprised at all, but he wouldn't have been even if the answer had changed. "Y'know, I think Severus would take yellow."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. He just seems like that type of person."

"I don't see how you can infer that Prince would choose such a color as _yellow_."

"You don't like yellow?"

"_No_, Harry, _I absolutely adore yellow,_" he sneered out sarcastically.

Harry nodded. "I'm personally not a big fan either."

Once more, silence descended on them, interrupted only by the light turning of pages and idle sips of hot chocolate.

"Do you have something you need to tell me, Harry?" Tom asked, and Harry didn't even notice until several seconds had passed. It had just been so out of the blue, so calm and nonchalant that, lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed.

"Not something that I need to tell…" Harry began slowly, "Just… can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"It's been bothering me since before the fight with SrsGG," he admitted. "You and Severus… are you two fighting or something?"

Tom tensed. "Did Severus say anything?"

Harry blinked at the defensive reply. "Err… no? But you two were being rather obvious about it, and then all of a sudden it all stopped and normally that would be okay, but you being you and Sev being Sev—"

"Stopping might be a sign of out-maneuvering and highly possible injury?" Tom drawled, setting down his book.

"I was going to say someone getting maimed, but yeah I guess that works too."

"…Are you certain that Severus didn't say anything to you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at his companion. "Did you threaten Severus?!"

"No. Believe it or not, _I _was the cordial one."

The younger of the two frowned, wrinkling his nose as he thought over it. "Actually, I _can_ believe that. Genuinely polite, on the other hand—"

"Weren't you trying to get at something?" interrupted Tom.

"Oh, right! Where was I—"

"Fighting."

"Right. Thanks. Anyways, are you _sure_ everything's alright between you two?"

Tom sighed. "Yes, Harry. If Severus didn't say anything, then everything is fine. However, if he has said something—"

"Which he hasn't!" Harry insisted, suddenly worried for his professor's life.

"—_which he hasn't—_," Tom continued dryly, "_then_ you may be worried for his health. Otherwise, I don't want to see you contemplating his wellbeing, at all."

"But what if he gets burned?"

"Then he gets a burn."

Harry pouted. "But that's so _mean_—"

"_Imp…_"

He huffed. "Fine. But you're being honest, right? Severus is fine and there's no bad blood between you two?"

"If he hasn't said anything—"

"Why can't you just say yes?" groaned Harry.

"Leading myself into verbal traps isn't something I enjoy," mildly replied Tom.

"I don't get it," he sighed, "Why are you so hung up on if Severus told me anything or not? _He didn't_. Did he find out some super embarrassing fact about you or what?"

"...Don't worry about it, imp. It's done with," Tom said.

"Tom—"

"Trust me, won't you?" He cut in.

Harry was silent. Tom was so insistent about this, and it wasn't often that he pulled the whole trust card (Harry could only recall twice) as it usually didn't come to it. Was it possibly because the issue was about—? "...Okay. I'll trust you."

Tom inclined his head. They continued to rest in the comfortable Sunday atmosphere, occasionally having a few serious discussions but mostly just lazing about. Well, Harry was, anyways. Eventually, they both ended up on the same couch, Harry's head next to Tom's thigh and his legs elevated on the sofa arms.

"...So, what'd you say about me?"

Tom raised a brow. "Pardon?"

Harry grinned, mischevious and full of mirth. "Well, to Severus of course! I doubt _he_ would be telling you the dirt, so share."

Beside him, Harry felt Tom stiffen. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

"Pfft! _Right_, Voldie!"

"Imp, I don't—"

"Not an idiot here, 'kay?" sang Harry, making a motion towards himself with a raised arm.

Tom sighed. "I thought you said you trusted me?" He put down his second book, knowing that he would probably not get a chance to read anymore.

"That has nothing to do with my curiosity though!"

"Your _curiosity _can go jump off a—"

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Am I annoying you?" he cut in.

Tom looked at him from the corner of his eyes. "You know, I think all of your questions are just a cover up for your terrible anxiety. Honestly, forget Prince, would you? Just because he's been sulking for a couple of days doesn't mean that he'll suddenly leap off of the nearest building."

Smilng, Harry idly brushed over the thought of Tom being ridiculously cute when he was being defensive about embarrassing things. "No," he replied genuinely, not thrown off by the attempt to change subjects at all, "I'm honestly just curious."

Disgruntled, Tom 'hmm'-ed and said no more.

The student pouted. "Oh, fair enough. I'll stop snooping—but seriously, if you said anything bad about me behind my back—"

"You're a terrible house guest," Tom abruptly began, "And lazy. How your teachers think you're a diligent student when all you do is doze off is a wonder I wish not to know; it might kill off some of my brain cells. Not to mention, you have an unhealthy addiction to useless actions and objects, and I'm sure you kick kittens in your spare time."

Wrinkling his nose, Harry made a noise that suspiciously sounded like a 'harumph!' "Ugh, fine! Be that way!" He rolled over, turning to lie on his side as he faced the back of the couch. His next few words sounded muffled, most likely from his positioning and his arm that curled up in front of his mouth. "I'm sure _you're_ the kitten-kicker anyways—stop transferring your bad deeds over to me!"

Tom hummed. He leaned back, relaxing and tilting his head slightly upwards. Regardless of the end of the conversation and the subsequent lull, the genius made no move to pick up his book again. Eventually, his hand ended up playing lightly with Harry's hair, idly rolling strands between his fingers as his thoughts flowed.

Harry made no complaint or sound of discomfort, so he continued.

"Do you want to go to the Championships, Harry?" Tom asked quietly.

Harry didn't respond for awhile, staying motionless, as if he fell asleep. Last season, the _first_ season, they didn't have the drive to go. CoS was important, but not as important as their obligations in real life. They had been easily knocked out of the regionals after defeating a team or two—not having gone through the intense training as all the other players had. True, in-game tournaments they dominated, which had brought them their team-fame in the first place, but they lacked motivation for anything else.

It had been an honor to participate, but not an honor that any of them wanted back then.

"Severus wants to go," was Harry's muffled reply, "Do you want to go?"

Tom sighed, more amused than anything. Harry was predictable when he was like this—insecure and hesitant. Entering the Championships would take work, time, and a drive. They could get there, just like any team could, but only if they had a unanimous agreement to go. Harry, especially, would be hard pressed—he was still under his parent's charge and, therefore, would need their confirmation and signatures if he wanted to participate.

They didn't even know he played CoS, not even thinking about _games in general_ on a computer.

"I'm asking if _you_ want to go, imp."

Harry shifted, curling his knees closer to his chest and almost forming a ball. He stayed silent, as if not willing to answer. "If I went," he finally said, "It would be to go with both you and Severus. To be there—_all of us_. I want us to go there to prove ourselves; prove that we're not just some lucky people who pull off lucky things and stupid moves; that we _know_ what we're doing. I would want to go to verse off against everyone else—feel as if it's the whole world against us because sometimes, it is. I would want to go there and fight against everyone else and _win_ because that would be amazing—because that would be with just the three of us—"

Harry took a deep breath, and Tom knew that he had been waiting to say these things for some time.

"—And even though it hasn't always been _just the three of us_, it is now. I want to go because it'd feel like I've done something—something that is for _me,_ for _us_, because we could! I want to go to beat those damned Koreans—did you know that Cypher's bashing my play style and calling it a copy of his?!—and beat all the people we lost against, and even fight against Baron. I want us to be part of it all—"

"And win for the sake of winning?" Tom cut in smoothly.

Harry laughed. He sat up, turning to face his companion with a type of smile that perfectly described his excitement. "Well," he murmured, "We're not exactly fond of losing, are we?"

Tom hummed his agreement. They had a lot of things to do now that it was decided, but that could wait. It would get busy, but that was okay too. Tom had needed something to do.

Harry let his head fall onto Tom's shoulder, breathing in his companion's comforting smell and hiding his smile at the same time. Familiarity—_yes_. They were closer now—the whole team, in fact—and perhaps this was what would give them their motivation. Their drive. Inspiration.

No more mindless studying for something he wasn't even sure he wanted to do. No more days in the classroom where he couldn't even find something to think about! This time they could—_this time_, they would—

Gently, Tom let his hand rest on top of Harry's head. He understood. Things were different now, but not necessarily worse. If anything, they were getting _better_. Deathly Hollows had always been separated by their roles—boss, teacher, student; adults and minor; worlds apart and somehow trying to mesh together. For some time, it had seem like it worked, but if their roles disappeared—if it no longer was set into the forefront of their minds—perhaps things would change. There was always room for improvement, after all.

On Monday, Harry found it was _very _difficult to keep the silly smile off of his face. Regardless, he stopped by Severus' desk—as planned—and dropped off a note—as planned.

_Going to WC this season! BE PREPARED PRINCE. WE'RE GOING TO WORK 'TIL WE PASS OUT._

_-Scarred and Voldie_

…Well, Harry had technically written the note, but in his defense it wasn't like Tom had specifically said "tell Severus using a note written with my words down verbatim". So he was using a bit of creative license here… And it wasn't as if Severus hadn't wanted to go in the first place! Hell, it was one of the reasons why he had been sulking a few days earlier! (Not that Severus had said he was sulking, or even looked like he was, but it was all about the mood—honest.)

Severus took one look at the note, glanced up at Potter as he made his way to his seat (_as if he had just done nothing—that brat!_), and looked down at the note again.

"Potter," he called out idly.

Harry turned. "Yes, sir?"

"Detention."

Harry nodded, and part of that silly expression he had worn just the previous day when he had gotten home slipped through. It was only for a second—but Severus saw it. "Yes, sir."

When he had gotten to his seat and sat down, Hermione leaned over and hissed in a very worried voice, "Harry! You didn't even do anything! Aren't you going to combat him?!"

"He's _Professor Snape_," Harry replied, not bothered in the least, "he doesn't need a reason. Even though I gave him one."

Granger gave him a look that clearly meant he was a deranged psychopath who had finally lost the very last bit of his sanity. A classmate sitting just in the seat over nodded enthusiastically to Harry's claim, eager to get in any insults to the harsh teacher if possible.

Severus began his class with all of his students wondering what the hell was going on—_Harry Potter had just gotten detention for the second time! _It was definitely a conspiracy. Tom snickered when he was told later after said "punishment", proceeding to make good on his promise to cruelly mock Harry for all it was worth.

All in all, Monday was pretty good.

Tuesday night was slightly different—Severus had gotten on just long enough to inform the team that an urgent phone call had taken place earlier, and he would have to leave for an unknown amount of time. If he didn't get on at the normal hour, then he probably wasn't going to log on at all. Naturally, Deathly Hollows had been curious, but Severus hadn't given them the time to actually voice it.

Harry and Tom had both decided to make use of the time to do the Magic Core system quest chain, which was what they were apparently calling the whole "partner" patch. In all honesty, it was quite the complex beast; some people had suspected that but the majority had thought it was just going to be one of those short "Talk to this NPC with your partner and get free buffs!" sort of thing.

Deathly Hollows had, in fact, taken time to talk about how they were best going to take advantage of the Magic Core system, and of course it was decided that Harry and Tom would bind. That left the question as to what Severus would be doing with the whole patch, but regardless the best option would be sticking it on Harry and Tom. The two had also decided they would run through this quest blind, just because they felt like it. They didn't read up on guides, or advantages, or reviews; just the in-game text would suffice for the time being.

Harry was sort of excited. At Slytherin Faction's HQ, one or two bound pairs had been walking around with the new special effects that came with the binding, and they were simply _stunning._ Glows and particle effects and animations galore, without looking cluttered. Muggle Games had certainly outdone themselves in the graphic department—not even yet touching upon the 'plot' factor of the quest chain that Harry had (not purposely, of course!) heard many good things about.

Not knowing what lied ahead of them, Scarred and VolDeMort stocked up on their potions and standard supplies, repairing some equipment that was broken or was close to, and dealt with a couple people who had greeted them and tried to subtly ask if they were going to be bound anytime soon.

_God,_ it felt like they were going to be married or something, and the rest of the world wanted to attend the wedding.

_Which is a terrible analogy_, Harry thought unconvincingly, _and I'll never, ever use it again_. They spent the whole night and then some running through the quest—he didn't regret it one bit.

In the morning—_after _the two to four hours of sleep he got—Harry received an interesting phone call. It was actually quite ridiculous, considering he should've had another good half-hour before breakfast, and he was ready to murder the person over the phone before he heard a familiar snarky voice.

"_Brat, I have some news for you_._"_

Blinking in shock, the teenager had to force himself to close his gaping mouth and then stared at his phone in amazement. "…Severus? How the hell did you get my number?"

"_School records. Now, do you want to hear this or not?"_

"I think that might be illegal—using records for personal use, that is," mused Harry, completely ignoring his professor's question. For some reason, Severus didn't sound like he was in a very good mood; tired and resigned rather than angry or amused.

"_Technically speaking, this is not for my own profit. It's for someone else's—and yours, I suppose, considering that you might be dead by the end of the week."_

Harry stiffened, suspicion and doubt in his eyes. Severus didn't sound very threatening either. What was up with him? "…Should I be worried?"

The professor continued to talk as if his student had never said anything. _"Draco Malfoy will be attending school tomorrow instead of next Monday. Due to some unseen circumstances, you will be told later today that you will be in charge of showing him around and getting him adjusted to his new classes so late in the year. Obviously, this includes making him feel 'accepted' and 'fit in', which is absolutely ridiculous all things considered, but I digress._"

Harry heard a sigh on the other side of the line. _"The boy is spoiled, a mother's and father's boy, if you will,"_ the elder said seriously, _"He also tends to look down on others, and perhaps sometimes even goes as far as to insult them."_

"…So he's a prat?"

There was silence from the other side until Severus began again with an awkward abruptness. _"The point is, you're going to have to deal with him for awhile. This may or may not affect how things go, in public and inside closed doors—"_(translation: this person is so irritating that it might actually affect your school work, and even your game play)_"—but do keep in mind, Draco is quite bearable once you become more… accustomed to his faults."_

"You sound like you're close to him," noted Harry with some surprise.

Severus sighed again, though this time with a hint of exasperation. _"He is… my god son. He is also a cousin of Madame Delacour, though the relation is distant. The good news is that he is intelligent, meaning he will have little to no difficulty in any of his classes—"_he broke off into a string of mumbles and murmurs,_"—god knows what will happen if he does. I tutored the boy for goodness' sake! If I find that he's slacking…"_

Coughing once, Severus returned to the main point. _"Yes, well. Good luck; you'll most likely need it."_

"You actually warned me," the teen said in mocking awe, "This is amazing—wow, that kid must be _some _jerk to be cause for _your _concern."

"_Draco isn't that bad," _the elder argued, but his argument cut off before it actually gave a proper defense. Harry imagined that his professor was grimacing over the phone. _"His ego simply needs to be… shut down." _

Harry snickered. "Mmmhm—"

"_See you in class, brat,"_ Severus ended abruptly, _"and do not get detention again."_

The teenager frowned at his cell phone when it was clear that his companion had hung up. He was still somewhat sleepy, but that was fading away to the new apparent issue he would get soon enough. Not to mention, Severus had sounded as tired as he was. What, had he been assigned to babysit the kid or something?

_Oh wait. That's my job._

Harry collapsed onto his pillow once more, deciding to just forget about it until he was forced to cross that bridge. Right now, he wanted sleep; lots and lots of sleep that he could not afford to have in the slim less-than-an-hour time he had.

But the fact remained. He would have to deal with _people_, because Madame Delacour was the prat's distant cousin and he just _knew_ how much she cared about her family, not to mention Severus might as well have predicted his death (wait, hadn't he?) and he still had to go about the business of telling his family about his status in the community they didn't even know he was a part of—

Shit. His thoughts were all over the place—blurred by the fog of sleep. What had he been thinking about? Ah, yes. People. Annoying, needy, disrupting people.

…Maybe he had spent too much time with Tom. That thought had sounded _far _too much like something that the man would say rather than himself. Harry fell asleep again when his thoughts were too muddled to hold his interest any longer.

* * *

**SO. LIKE. That took far too long to get out. I was just so indecisive about what should happen and urggg... Sorry for my terrible characterization in this chapter xD. I dunno, I think I'm brain dead with all this mid-term prep and what not.**

**Next chapter I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing. We're going to get a bunch of snippets on the stuff that you guys missed in this chapter, like **** -maybe- that detention with Severus, **the Magic Core system quest chain that Harry and Tom will hop through (yay, I get to write more of CoS!), where Severus went and what he was doing while Tom and Harry were bonding and crap, etc. Then, the chapter after that should be about meeting Draco and other stuff, perhaps including some game time... if all goes well, that's the plan!

**And I'm still having trouble with getting to Point B in this slash business. Please forgive me ;~;**

**If you have any questions, please shoot me a PM/review with it! I'll try to answer to the best of my abilities, but obviously cannot even attempt to if you ask anonymously. Thanks a bunch, and I love all of my reviewers (and readers and subscribers and favorite-ers) for all of their praise and advice as well as taking their time to do so!**

**See ya'll next time. **

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	19. Quest XVI: Cutscene 5X

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**S**everus sighed, returning his telephone to its holder. He had just gotten off the phone with Lucius—and the news was somewhat questionable.

Draco would always seem to cause trouble, no matter how old he was, Severus mused with no little amount of fondness in his thoughts. His godson was as childish as he was intelligent; as mature as he could mask himself to be. Sometimes Severus wondered how Draco could be so different—distant though affectionate, intelligent though dense and sheltered, a leader and a follower, still a child but quickly approaching adulthood.

Honestly, what would the Malfoy family do without him? At least Narcissa was a bit better—with all of her motherly doting upon her son, it wasn't as awkward when she caved to his pleadings. With Lucius, however, the sharp contrast in strict yet indulgent manners was enough to make _anyone's_ head spin. Keeping that in mind, it was no wonder Draco ended up so socially stunted.

All the boy had for companions was a close knit group he had been friends with since kindergarten, consisting of four people from family friends.

Severus shook his head, sighing for the nth time today. He got online long enough to spare a message to his team, and then picked up his coat and left the house once more. Idly, he wondered how long _this_ visit would take. Perhaps he would end up staying overnight. Lucius had sounded vaguely distraught.

Upon arriving at Malfoy Manor, he was admitted entrance by Dobby, one of the servants, and led (though certainly, he knew his way well enough through the large house and needed no assistance at all) to an office, where his old friend sat nursing a glass of wine.

Mentally, the professor grimly prepared himself. It was going to be one of those days, and he didn't mean the lazy, comfortable type that was often shared between the members of Deathly Hollows.

"Severus," greeted the blond, though it was clearly more for courtesy. It seemed like all Lucius wanted to do was collapse into his plush seat and prattle off his worries, which was exactly what Severus was expecting.

"Lucius. What has happened, my dear friend? You were not very precise over the phone," he murmured as he took a seat.

"Draco," was all the man said.

Severus raised a brow. "That's not very clear either. Your son's name could mean multiple things—though I take it with your tone nothing good?"

Lucius sighed. "He's being… a teenager."

The professor resisted rolling his eyes. "Yes, well, he is seventeen. By definition, Draco _is _a teenager."

"I managed to wrangle out the reason why he wanted to transfer out of Hogwarts," continued the blond.

"Shall I guess?" Severus exhaled, leaning back into the comfort of luxury furniture. "He was dared—probably coerced into anger before that—and thus accepted without any real thought."

"Close. It was a bet."

"A _bet_? I'm not sure whether or not I'm surprised. But this late in the year? Who was it made with?"

"His whole little group," mumbled Lucius as he took another sip of his wine. Usually, Severus noted, the man's hair was always perfect—but now it was slightly disheveled. _That_ could hold a multitude of meanings, none which were pleasant.

Unless it was sex. But he really, really didn't want to think of Lucius having sex with Narcissa right now, especially when that was clearly not the case nor the time for those thoughts. Not to mention, they hadn't even had the foresight to—

No. He was not going there.

"And are you upset?" asked Severus cautiously.

"...I'm not quite sure, old friend. To transfer out this late is disconvenience, but not one that is terrible. Draco has always been intelligent—I know he'll have no trouble at all passing this new school with impressive grades, but…" Lucius trailed off.

"Teenagers are exhausting," the professor summed up dryly, having had far too much experience with such attitudes already.

"Yes," Lucius agreed, pouring Severus a glass, "Teenagers are most certainly exhausting."

"So, what, exactly," Severus began as he accepted the wine with flourish, "do you expect me to do, other than looking out for him which I will _already_ be doing?"

The aristocrat looked his companion in the eye. "You understand," he murmured quietly, "that Draco will be without his group of… acquaintances for the first time?"

Severus slowly nodded, understanding where this was going.

"He will be alone," Lucius continued, "and the people at this new school will not be… used to him, shall we say. Most likely, considering Draco's…"

"Unique," supplied Severus.

"—_unique_ personality, they will not react well to him."

The professor frowned. "Do you presume that Draco will allow himself to be bullied?"

"Certainly not," replied Lucius. "Draco is stronger than that. He is his _father's _son, after all. No, I simply expect that the rest of the year will not be pleasant for him if he continues to go on his way to fulfill this bet, that he just so happened to lose, alone."

"Experience is the best tool to teach the obstinate," Severus mercilessly preached.

The blond grimaced. "I still do not wish—"

"—for Draco to be hurt, yes, I know," sighed the teacher, "as I do not wish it either, but some things must come to pass, you know."

Lucius placed his glass down and rested his elbows atop his desk, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward to look imploringly at his friend. "Severus…" he murmured, "Please do your friend a favor. The reason that I allowed this to happen in the first place was because I knew _you _taught at this school, and _you _would be able to keep an eye out for my son."

Severus shut his eyes, and with a tired exhale of breath, opened them again to gaze dispassionately at the man he had known since childhood. "What is it that you wish of me?"

"Find someone," the blond replied, "find someone who you know is trustworthy—that will be able to help my son through these last few months. I do not wish him to experience his last few years of high school with hate and loneliness. I understand that his friends did not wish that for him—certainly they will visit often—but that does not stop unpleasant circumstances from rising. Can you think of a student who can do this?"

Severus sneered. "Most of those who I teach are ignorant, blubbering fools, but—"he paused, sighing yet again, "Yes… there is one who I can think of."

Relief filled Lucius' expression. "Who?"

"A senior by the name of Harry Potter… the same age as Draco."

Instantly, the aristocrat's expression morphed into confusion instead. "A… Potter? As in, James Potter's, the police chief's, son? Lily Evans' son? Potter from _Hogwarts_?"

"Indeed," replied Severus dryly while he resisted the urge to sneer.

"I admit I'm baffled, old friend."

"He is… different," Severus reassured. "Draco will take to him easily. However, I do not know how well Mr. Potter will. For all the years I've known him, the boy is still an enigma to me."

"…I suppose that is acceptable, then," murmured Lucius. "If he has your recommendation and faith, then I will have no reason to doubt Harry Potter yet. But no matter how much you try to hide it from me, and as excellent as your masking skills are, I still know you quite well Severus. You are fond of the boy."

"It is hard not to be," retorted the professor. "He is Lily's son, yet not. Harry Potter is his own person, and if you ever meet him one day, you will be forced to agree with me."

"Why, isn't that an invitation I _must_ take up on?" Lucius chuckled, smiling predatorily. "I'm sure Potter will get a kick out of that—his own son, meeting with Lucius Malfoy himself!"

"How arrogant you are," Severus shook his head, though the light smirk on his face was easily identifiable. Obviously, he too would get _some_ entertainment from _that_ situation.

"Shall you spend the night, then?" asked Lucius, raising his glass in question. "Narcissa will be overjoyed to have you—and if you have yet to have dinner, that can be prepared too."

Severus bowed his head. "With such an invitation such as that, who _ever_ can reject it?" he lightly mocked.

Narcissa joined them later, and the three talked and drank like old friends catching up with each other. And really, that was what they were. It had been far too long since he had stayed over at the Malfoy's, Severus mused.

* * *

**M**eanwhile, as their third member was off to who knows where, VolDeMort waved exuberant players off none too kindly, though there were a couple of stragglers who actually _wanted to watch_ them go through the Magic Core quest. Why, Harry would never know, as they moved off to the quest location before anyone else got too curious. It was a cave recently implemented specifically for the Magic Core quest chain, built into a pre-existing map.

As they entered, Harry found himself frowning at the sense of déjà vu he experienced. "Hey, Tom…?"

"Mm?"

"Doesn't this place look familiar to you…?"

Tom paused. "Somewhat. Actually, it reminds me of Phaeron's—"

Just as they moved through a portal, the game seemed to freeze and they both lost control of their characters.

"What the—"

The exit behind them disappeared, closing and leaving behind a flawless wall of crystal and rock. Harry saw their characters' heads turn, just in time to see the last wisp of portal fade away. With growing excitement, he realized exactly what was happening.

God, Muggle Games really_ had_ outdone themselves this time. _A cutscene! In an MMO! For the new system!_

"Holy shite," he breathed, "I'm excited."

Tom shot him an amused look. "Well, at least we'll know this will be interesting."

"You doubted that?"

His question apparently didn't deem a response, so Harry turned his attention back to what was happening. A figure had appeared in front of them, and Scarred and VolDeMort had both spun around _again_ to move into a defensive position.

"_I mean you no harm, travelers,"_ murmured a smooth, feminine voice. A text box also appeared on the screen, printing out the words that had just been spoken.

Scarred stepped forward. _"Who are you?!_"

"_Not your foe,"_ the female replied, and she moved out of the shadows to show her state of dress. She wore white—all white—with a sheer shall wrapped around her shoulders. Her style was elegant, telling of wealth and high status.

"…_You are Lady Amelia of the Cavern Elves?"_ VolDeMort asked cautiously, moving forward as well as a bit more to the side to give good space between he and his companion.

The lady smiled. _"Indeed. I am. You have ventured your way into a very special cave, travelers, and I am afraid I cannot let you leave no matter how much I wish it. The cave only accepts those who fulfill special requirements, you know."_

"…_Cavern Elves? Are you related to Phaeron, then?" _frowned Scarred, who sheathed his sword but kept his hand steady on the handle.

Amelia simply continued to smile. _"He is… a relation of mine, I suppose you could say. But that is not here or there, young traveler; you have come here with your companion for a reason, have you not? Only two may enter this room at a time, and only if they have a certain type of compatibility."_

"_There was a legend told of this place,"_ replied VolDeMort quietly, _"that those who enter receive powers unimaginable—a combination of magics that goes beyond what is known to any wizard."_

"_That is somewhat true_," murmured the lady_. "This cave deals with the ancient soul magic of the gods and goddesses. It holds the secret to all—and yet the secret must already be embedded within you to be revealed. Have you come for this power, travelers? Is that what you desire?"_

"_We came here because we were curious,_" answered Scarred. _"Power is nice, but VolDeMort and I are plenty strong on our own! I doubt that there is a power in this world that you could give us that would make us any stronger."_

Tom snorted. "That's cheesy," he noted.

"It's the script!" Harry shot back. "…Though, yeah, it is sort of iffy there—"

"_Spoken like a true partner," _Amelia praised, _"However, you both must hold the same devotion to each other, whether or not you desire this power. If your bonds are fake and weak, this cave will trap you and devour you with all of its might. Be you are honest and true, Mistress Magic will reward you greatly."_

VolDeMort tensed. _"You—!" _

With no warning whatsoever, a spear of crystal shot out from the wall, headed straight for Scarred. VolDeMort leapt in its path, planning to intercept it, and raised his weapon just as it was about to hit—

But it didn't.

Scarred gasped as the spear shot right through the both of them, passing through harmlessly and dissolving into Lady Amelia's stretched out palm.

Her smile grew. _"Yes… Perhaps you two will be able to wield its power… the power that this cave so desperately shields away from all other beings… But only the trials will tell, I suppose. Be safe, travelers; I shall be praying to Lady Luck for your advancements."_

She faded before Scarred or VolDeMort could get a word in edgewise, and instead of the portal reappearing behind on the wall, another flashed into being in front of them. The custom textbox disappeared, the chat box returning to its position. Shining letters flashed upon the screen in a glowing title sequence, reading _Magic Core: Crystal Crevice_.

Harry grinned. "Wicked."

Tom sighed, fondly shaking his head. "Let's go."

The next couple of maps included a variety of trials and obstacles—movement tests, puzzles, riddles to solve… It was quite entertaining. And long. For each trial they completed, they obtained one _Shard of Azure_, apparently a quest item. Harry wouldn't say they breezed through the challenges—but some were exceptionally easy, while others straggled the line of insanely hard and difficult.

Soon enough, the final portal came into view, standing out starkly from the other gates with its decorative markings and elaborate particle effects. It glowed brightly as they finished the test, as if activated for the two to enter.

They stepped through.

Immediately, Harry and Tom were met with another cutscene. This one, however, was slightly different.

"Holy shite! That's Phaeron!" Harry exclaimed as the Elven legendary boss stepped out on screen.

"Looks like we might have to fight him," noted Tom. "Suppose it was a good thing we stocked up then, isn't it?"

"You're fucking joking," deadpanned the younger. "We're so not ready to duo a legendary boss!"

"_Most likely_, it's edited to be weak enough for two people to defeat. This is a duo quest chain—remember?"

"Oh yeah," mumbled Harry. They had always been at a disadvantage in party quests, sometimes even needing to recruit other members temporarily to complete one. There weren't many duo quests and, as such, it sort of threw him off with the scaling.

"_Phaeron!" _Scarred shouted, adopting a suitably defensive though at the same time offensive fighting stance. He was mirrored by VolDeMort, and the two stood close to each other as their eyes narrowed at their foe.

"_Haha! It's been awhile, hasn't it, wizard?"_ the elf taunted. _"Been getting yourself into quite a mess, haven't you? Gone into these caves, seeking glory, seeking _power_, only to find me here at the end, when you are exhausted and tired… say, are you perhaps disappointed?"_

"_None of that's any of your business!" _Scarred snapped.

"_Are you perhaps picking a fight?"_ growled VolDeMort.

Phaeron chuckled. _"Doubtless, dearest sister Amelia must have told you of this cave's legacy…? Well then, I'll sum it up for you. Before I sided with Morgan Le Fay, my job was a gatekeeper of this place. Amelia has taken over that role—but you defeated me, didn't you?"_

"_Get to the damned point already!"_

"_Tsk tsk, so impatient…"_ Phaeron walked forward, unopposed despite the tensing of the two adventurers before him. He raised a hand towards Scarred, a curious expression adopted on his face. _"I remember you. You wizards just love causing me trouble, don't you? Now, after I was defeated, Morgan Le Fay did not want me anymore. Said I was weak. Well, you know what? I could do nothing as she tossed me aside; abandoned me… I came back to this cave, with nowhere else to go… Do you know how much that hurt? Being forced to drag myself back and face Amelia's scorn? She never approved of my choices, you know—"_

By now, Phaeron had gotten glaringly close to Scarred, though the latter did not move and continued to glare hatefully at the elf. The former felt a cold metal against his neck, freezing and allowing his eyes to flicker to his left, where a weapon was placed against his skin.

"_Touch him and you die," _VolDeMort breathed.

Phaeron lowered his hand, chuckling, though a bit nervous now. _"Protective one, aren't you? Well, that's alright. It's good if you're enthusiastic. Makes it all the better when I shut you down here and now—"_crystal spikes flew from the walls, aimed at the very spot VolDeMort stood at, and the dark lord was forced to leap away from the elf as they impaled the air.

"—_and oh, I _will_. You wizards, taking over our lands, arrogantly marching in out of nowhere… I don't know what Mistress Magic sees in you all! We creatures are so much obviously better. _We _should be ruling over you humans! And yet, here we are, locked in a battle that some of us do not want to fight… do you know how unfair that is? Morgan Le Fay said she would fix this! Said she would bring us creatures to the top! And I would give my life for her cause! But you wizards just had to ruin that, too, huh? You wizards just _had _to make her abandon me and what I have to offer!"_

"_You were weak and arrogant. No one would want a follower like that," _calmly replied VolDeMort.

Phaeron snarled. _"Well! None of that matters anymore! Defeating you two here, stopping you in your tracks from obtaining this cave's most valued secrets… Morgan Le Fay will certainly accept me back into her ranks! Best of all, I get to do this under my role. No one will help you, come save you, rescue you from your inevitable fate! Be prepared, wizards, because _here, _you will _die_."_

A dramatic transition screen over took the players' monitors, cutting out the cut scene and turning it back into real time, where Phaeron was now on the map. He was labeled as, obviously, a boss and a monster, and it was clear that the door on the other side would not open until he was slain.

"…Well, that was an interesting twist," noted Harry with an impish grin.

"I wonder if he drops anything of value," mused Tom, "or if it's simply quest items. We _could_ turn a profit—"

"We'll just have to see," declared Harry.

Scarred leapt into action, already experienced with all of Phaeron's attacks from the numerous times that he had fought the legendary boss version in the past. This Phaeron was smaller, more compact—and definitely less intimidating. Regardless, it would be a waste of potions—and therefore money—to wait around and get hit for the sake of gauging the damage taken, so he simply dodged the icy bolts of magic aimed for him.

He stabbed forward, sliding quickly into a skid dash before his motion was even finished to dodge the incoming magic attack. From behind, VolDeMort also advanced, though at a smaller pace and a diagonal curve so he could use his berserker's distraction to his utmost offensive advantage.

The burst damage that Phaeron had used to kill many in the first run appeared again here—throwing his hands up in the air, the elf summoned forth a barrage of crystals from the floor, having them strike out in random directions to stop Scarred's charge.

Timing it perfectly, Scarred Skid Dash'd through most of them just as they began to peek out of the ground, getting hit only by the crystal he landed on. A well placed Sword Shield pushed Phaeron back into VolDeMort's own assault, but the boss leapt out of it before he took too much damage and instantly, the two players were forced to retreat when crystals once more shot toward them.

They moved to circle around, but a wall of gemstone that had magically appeared stopped their move, and from their previous knowledge, they both attempted to dodge to the side, VolDeMort shadow shifting and, just as the wall exploded into a shower of spears, summoned Scarred to his side with an Aura Bind that allowed him to only take minimum damage.

Phaeron darted forward, crystal shards whirling around him in a protective circle, and Scarred took the opportunity to Skid Dash right through him as the dark lord launched a snare. Whirling around, the elf struck out at the berserker even as he was caught, and the two players were able to deal a good amount of damage before they were forced to retreat. Scarred had taken damage from the crystal shards, but for now it was of no matter.

Harry blinked. "Tom, what the hell are we doing?"

Tom raised a brow. "What is it that you mean?"

"...Well, didn't we just knock him up into the air? I saw aerial bonus as part of my combo."

"…"

"…"

VolDeMort quickly advanced, for once in front of Scarred, and Phaeron, being an NPC, took the bait easily. The burst of crystal that struck out at the dark lord was enormous, though he dodged much of it, and quickly sent another snare at Phaeron as the boss was busy casting. He then called Scarred to him with a quick Aura Bind, and the berserker did not hesitate in turning on Ferocious Aura, as well as driving forward with a Tumble Dive immediately after.

The Tumble Dive knocked the originally snared Phaeron into the air, and the Ferocious Aura was activated quickly enough. VolDeMort sent bolts of magic right at the boss, all of them receiving the aerial attack bonus as well as keeping him in the air. Scarred followed up as well with regular swipes of his sword, keeping the boss knocked up and immobilized even if one of the bolts from his companion missed.

What they were doing was called _juggling_, keeping the enemy in the air and unable to escape the chain of attacks. It was quite hard to keep up for a very long time, but this method had helped the two players win their fair share of boss fights (depending on if the boss could be knocked up or not) when they had been just a duo pair, and so were quite experienced in the whole matter. Often they would be forced to change positions due to any small movement of the enemy to keep them alight, which was why the method was difficult if only with few allies.

Phaeron, drastically low, was finally able to escape the chain when a slight pause in the barrage allowed him to, mid-air, summon crystals to strike out at the two players. They dodged, trivial damage being taken, and charged in again at an angle as the boss righted itself on firm ground.

"Didn't know he could do that," Harry mumbled.

Any attempt Phaeron made to kill them was useless. VolDeMort darted right in, a soul bind allowing him to take health and a passive defensive buff from Scarred, and a few spells that all hit their mark quickly ended the boss.

"Now, was that so bad?" Tom mocked as Harry stretched.

Said teen pouted. "Shut up. He could've been even more annoying!"

"They _do _need to make this quest easy enough for lower levels to pass, and that includes defense stats on Phaeron."

"Yeah, well whatev—hey, another cutscene!"

The heavily wounded Phaeron stumbled, clutching his arm that was apparently bleeding. His head was bowed low, heavy pants emphasizing his fatigue if one had not already noticed his shaking legs.

"_Well?" _he growled, _"finish it already! Kill me!"_

VolDeMort and Scarred both turned to look at each other.

Then, it was the former who spoke. _"I doubt killing you would help anything. You are one of the guards of the cave, are you not? If we were to kill you, would not some calamity befall us?"_

"_Mighty suspicious, if you ask me,"_ said Scarred, confidently walking forward and gently but firmly pushing the elf down to sit. _"Here."_ A health potion was shoved into Phaeron's hand, which he hesitantly took.

The elf stared at it for a long time. _"You humans,"_ he finally muttered. _"Fine. You pass. Get out of here."_ Though his words held no bite, they _did _activate the portal, which widened to signal that they would be able to go on.

With one last fleeting glance at the collapsed creature, the two companions passed through.

Beyond the portal was another wide cavern, though this time in the center was a raised stone. There were seven impressions on its surface, spread out like a rhombus.

Harry frowned when no clues could be gathered from around the room. "Huh," he breathed.

Tom did not speak. Instead, he clicked the stone as he was right in front of it, causing it to glow momentarily before subsiding.

"Fuck," the berserker cursed.

"For once, I'll echo that sentiment," Tom said dryly.

"I should've seen this coming!" Harry moaned. "And didn't Phaeron say he was _a _gatekeeper? I'm wondering if those passives are even worth it now."

Before them, the stone now possessed six impressions—the seventh one being filled with an azure blue gem, the exact color that their collected quest items had been. Once it had been placed, a wide entrance opened on the opposing wall, the surrounding crystals now colored a shade of red.

"It's going to be a long night," idly noted Tom as they advanced forward, despite all of Harry's complaints.

Said teenager didn't need to say anything to show his agreement.

Surprisingly enough, the other cavern extensions hadn't been as long as the first. In fact, they had been quite short. The gatekeepers had consisted of a lava rock creature, a gas demon, a flower sprite, a large serpentine monster, a powerful nine tailed fox, and a black flame steed. Red, grey, pink, green, yellow, purple. Added with blue, the stone was finished.

The cave rumbled as the large stone slowly descended into the cavern floor, halting at an appropriate level to be an altar. Then, Lady Amelia appeared.

"_So it seems I was correct,"_ she smiled.

They said nothing, instead watching her curiously.

"_Go ahead,"_ she said as she motioned to the altar, _"It's waiting for you."_

The two players moved forward then, hands outstretched towards the altar. It glowed softly as their hands touched it, and the light continued to spread after the skin contact had been removed. In front of them lay a delicate piece; a locket carved with a beautiful design and imbued with rare gemstones.

_Players VolDeMort and Scarred have obtained quest item: Horcrux._

"_This is the cave's treasure. It has been here for the longest time, waiting for those that can wield it. Not far from this cave is a lake, settled far above the highest mountain tops and yet lies flat and still, awaiting the two who will bring forth the power. It looms above all, but when reached, stands at its lowest. Find this lake, wizards, and you will find the ultimate magic hidden by the wills of the gods!"_

"…Do you think we can finish this quest chain by the end of the night?"

"Technically, imp, the night's already over," replied Tom. "Though, if you want to try and speed through it—"

"Bet you five dark chocolate waffle scones that we'll finish before 2AM," Harry immediately replied.

"Deal."

And so _Magic Core: Lake of Luminosity_ began.

It hadn't been all too hard to find the lake, in fact—Tom and Harry were already familiar with this region, considering it was Slytherin territory and often a nice training ground when they had been lower level. The rocky mountains were home to many orcs, trolls, and giants, though there were also the rarer, exotic species like the loner nine-tailed foxes or great rocs.

All they had had to do was look for the new map, which they found as a new addition in one of the smaller caves.

It was very out of the way, but the crevice lead to a room of spiraling stairs, dust seen slowly floating down as sunlight peeked from somewhere above. There were no monsters—just a very, very long walk up, and thus Scarred and VolDeMort ascended. The stairs had been a pearly white, it seemed, had it not been for the centuries that aged it, covering it with dust and grime. However, the air sung with magic, tinting the area with a low light.

All and all, the dramatic effect was quite stunning. It was hard to guess what the lake would look like.

Finally, as they neared the top, the source of light could be seen. The two players dashed forward to it, entering and being stunned by the light. Before them was indeed a lake, the water still and unmoving. However, life seemed to blossom at its edges, plants never seen before growing in absolute peace.

There were no birds, no bees, no insects that buzzed in the air, but the plants seemed to grow just fine without their necessary counterparts. It seemed that magic had helped them with that.

The sky was wide open to them, the edges of the disk they stood on visible, but moreover was the view granted from the distance—mountains and mountains on end. It seemed like the chain extended forever, as far as the sky could stretch even.

"Woah…"

Scarred stepped forward, and seeing as nothing would jump out and attack him, ran forward to the water's edge. Beneath the clean liquid, coral reefs and seaweed could be seen some ways in, swaying gently even as the water looked still and absolute, almost like a thin sheet of paper had been laid over it. There were no fish, no matter how valiantly one tried to look for them.

In all honesty, it was a vast lake, taking up almost all of the land available.

Testingly, Harry tried to move forward again, expecting to bump into an invisible barrier that would stop him from stepping off his edge of grass. However, he _did_ move, stepping out into the water and causing ripples that had never been seen before.

"Wicked—a water map!" Harry grinned.

Tom tilted his head to the side. "This looks suspicious," he finally said.

"What do you mean?" his companion frowned. "It's a _lake_. Maybe we're supposed to drop the Horcrux in or something—look, there's even deep water in the middle! I doubt we could walk all the way there, but maybe there's an option to throw it or something."

"I don't know, imp," Tom murmured, "It just looks… suspicious. Perhaps we should try looking around on _land_ first—"

"Pfft. There's hardly any land in the first place! Come on. A lake, bunch of water, and we can step in it. They're clearly trying to tell us something!"

The dark lord sighed. "Fair enough. Let's go."

The two players continued on towards the center of the lake, the water getting deeper until it was up to their waist.

Harry pouted when they hit that invisible barrier.

"I _did_ tell you," Tom drawled.

"Oh shush—Hey, look over there! That looks like a platform…"

Scarred waded over to what he had pointed out, stepping experimentally onto the stone. The water was now to his knees, and he ran back and forth experimentally.

"It works!"

Tom shook his head, but made his way over anyways. They continued along the path, making their way through the invisible barrier and moving even farther into the lake. Eventually they managed to reach close enough to the center most part so that they could see the dark depths directly below. A glimmer of light caught Tom's eye.

"…Imp, did you see—"

Another.

"Yeah. What the hell is tha—"

Hands darted out from the water, colored just as blue, just as mysterious as the lake. Webbed hands, scales covering perhaps what was skin, nails sharp and long, grabbing onto legs and holding on with a tight grip…

"What the fucking—!"

Faces appeared out of the water. Scarred and VolDeMort could not move. Liquid seemed to drip off their faces, falling in waves and revealing scaly texture and wide open eyes. The scales that had caused the light to bounce off of them were revealed, smooth and a fading shade of azure.

The two players were pulled mercilessly into the lake, falling and falling and falling into blue that was black and black that was blue. Such color took over the whole screen, blanketing even the outer rim options.

Harry leaned back into his chair, gulping. "…Okay. You were right. I'll believe you next time."

Tom sighed, closing his eyes as he too leaned back. "Thank you."

As the screen faded back into view, an eerie song began to play in the back, slowly heading into a crescendo of harmonies accompanying a main melody as the creatures that had grabbed them came into the line of sight, swimming about them every which way.

Mermaids. And another cutscene, Harry supposed, but there were really _fucking _mermaids here! In a lake that was above the highest mountains of the highest mountain range! Things had just gotten more interesting.

"_We are the guardians of this lake_

_That exists above the ground,_

_And yet we lie down below,_

_In stark contrast to what is found._

_Travelers, you come here blessed by those_

_Who will die for the task they take,_

_And yet no remorse stains your picture,_

_Only the determination that their deaths make._

_Tell us, if you would,_

_How far do those feelings go?_

_Will you fall here, where below is above,_

_And above leads only to your foe?_

_We cannot sing above the water,_

_But our song is clear now here,_

_For what else is there left_

_If not for our mother's kind ear?"_

Out from the spiral that the female creatures had created swam forth one other. She was dressed richly, armor gleaming along with an extravagant headdress that displayed some type of symbol in the center. Her hair hung about her, drifting easily in the water. It seemed as if she had always belonged here; triton in hand and prepared for battle, yet still seeking a peace that perhaps would never come.

"_I am the guardian of this lake, _

_That which lies here above the ground._

_You are the travelers seeking power, _

_But have yet to find what has not been found. _

_To answer your questions, yes, it lies here,_

_Locked far away and yet still so very near…_

_There is but one way to reach our treasure, _

_If you be but willing to take the measure."_

Unsure of whether he would be able to speak under the lake, Scarred asked, _"…And that would be?" _

"_This lake used to be a sea of power,_

_Steadily supplying the path of the tower._

_But the light of dusk that we so desperately need_

_Has been denied to our people, to us, to our seed._

_Our race will die if not we take_

_The head of the Grand Roc that is our fate;_

_For his flight blocks the last trickles of moon,_

_Blocking our power source and leading to ruin."_

"_And you expect us to defeat it for you?"_ VolDeMort drawled, not impressed. The mermaid smiled sadly.

"_The power we guard cannot be reached_

_As the gate only opens when light is leeched._

_You have come a long way, yes that is true,_

_But sadly your journey cannot end and renew._

_Not quite yet; until the Roc is dead,_

_Your twin souls cannot truly be perfectly wed._

_This is the power that the gods have bestowed_

_Upon us, the ability to have and to hold_

_Onto another's soul yet not,_

_For one cannot hold that which is lost._

_Two pieces you are, two halves of a whole,_

_Together forming just over one full soul._

_If you refuse this task, that is perfectly fine,_

_But I doubt your completion occurs through time._

_Only the gods can give and then take,_

_And then perhaps give again to remake;_

_For this is our last chance to survive_

_As the people of this lake that laugh and thrive,_

_Fully aware of our task made to die."_

"They're quite dramatic," Tom noted with some degree of mockery as he raised a brow. "Though, I do like how they phrased it. 'Your twin souls cannot be perfectly wed'? Now isn't that a load of tripe; right imp?"

Harry tittered. "It's not supposed to be a soul mate system, but it sure sounds like it after _that _speech. Though, definite props for their storytelling. So, a race full of mermaids, note the suffix as they are females, impregnate themselves through using the light of the moon, apparently at dusk? And that light also apparently acts as their power source to activate whatever magic that's hiding around here? Wonderful. If that isn't the best way to run a civilization, I don't know what is."

His companion cocked his head to the side. "Are you tired?"

Harry dropped his head onto the table. "I'm getting there."

"I think you're already there. Your sarcasm usually isn't that heavy."

"…Let's just kick this stupid Roc's ass and then head to bed. Severus is probably going to kill me when I walk in tomorrow, but whatever."

Tom sighed. "Fair enough, but if you need to crash over here for awhile to get in some more hours of sleep—without being suspicious—feel free to."

"Thanks," Harry smiled weakly. "So not fair that you're not as sleepy as I am."

"Oh, trust me; I'm definite tired, imp. I'm just a bit better at dealing with it."

"You just tried to be modest! Wow, you must really be sleepy, Tom."

"Hush."

By now, the cutscene had advanced to the two players' exit from the lake, only with mounts. Wait, _mounts_?

"Flying Fish," mumbled Harry. "I don't even know…"

Tom sighed. "Can you even fight like this?"

"Are you talking about me, or the fish?"

"You."

"Same answer anyways," Harry shrugged. "Just gotta find out."

Dusk came easily. Atop of flying fish for mounts, both players awaited the Grand Roc in silence. To block out the moon… was it really that big? In the distance, a shape seemed to move, but it was ignored until that shape widened, sharpened, growing bigger and bigger until there were large, feathered wings and talons as well as a deadly beak.

It was enormous. Ridiculously huge. At least three times their size, and maybe then some.

"…Fuck."

"Indeed."

"…No, just no. This is GG for us," moaned Harry. "Too tired. Wanna sleep. Lost bet…"

"One last fight, imp," Tom coaxed, "_one last fight_. You first period is English, correct? Sleep in there. I won't tell. Won't even tease you. Simply finish whatever you did in class at home, get the notes from someone else—"

"Y'swear?" Harry mumbled.

"Yes."

Yawning, the teen nodded. "Alright, alright. One more fight. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to cram it all in one day…"

"Too late now," Tom drawled. "Ask for coffee in the morning."

"I will…"

The two players stared at the gigantic creature in awe. Its breast was covered in scales, though surrounded by feathers—almost as if it were armor. More scales lined the edge of its wings, melting seamlessly into the feathers, and only its head remained untouched. Its beak and talons were sharpened to a deadly point, gleaming as the beast flapped its wings to keep itself alight. Claws extended, the roc looked as if it were going to attack any second.

They readied themselves. It would be an aerial battle; that was for sure.

It struck.

With surprising mobility, the two dodged to the side, darting around and then higher into the air. The fact that they could move anywhere was odd and dizzying at first, but after a couple forced dodging encounters, both the berserker and dark lord got used to it.

As the Roc was so big, it was difficult _not_ to miss an attack, but it also meant health and defense were certainly not what it lacked. Sharp talons would swipe or extend, as if to knock them off of their mounts, and a dangerous beak would occasionally open to cry out in a terrible shriek.

In their dance, which the Roc seemed to have lead and full advantage of, the three engaged in battle ascended into the air, further and further until the lake was but a spec downward. Here, it seemed, the players lost five health points for every five seconds they retained such a height. It looked like there was no way around it—here was their battleground, minus the actual ground.

Scarred moved in, recklessly swirling about the Grand Roc's head even as he had yet to gain full control over his mount and the environment. Regardless, Harry knew he was fast. Speed was all he needed. His sword sliced at its wing as he descended from his taunt, angering the Roc despite the low damage output and then taking punishment from it by being butted aside with a powerful flap. The dark lord fared no better—his spells, though certainly hitting their marks, did trivial damage.

What were they missing? How could anyone defeat such a monster? Was there some type of trick?

Tom snarled in distaste. The lack of sleep really _was_ getting to him, as they hadn't been just idly chatting. If only there was such a thing as a weak point in this game—

From below the Roc as it flew towards Scarred, VolDeMort fired off a chain of dark magic directly at its underbelly, surprisingly chipping off far more health than they had done previously. Could it be…?

Harry seemed to understand what Tom was thinking. With some fancy maneuvering, they traded places as VolDeMort being the bait and Scarred as the assaulter. The dark lord did not have the latter's speed, nor many slowing abilities, but there was enough in his repertoire to keep the Roc at a suitable distance, despite surprising bursts of speed and dips that could potentially throw him off.

Scarred flew below, finally understanding how difficult it was to keep up with the Roc if it were not kited properly. The gigantic beast was fast—an easy target if close, but that was dangerous still. Being melee, it was difficult to catch the right angle to test their unspoken theory, but he'd rather be damned than fail at that!

When he saw the perfect chance, Scarred neared dangerously close, forcing an Ultimate Reckoning straight into the Grand Roc's belly. It did indeed knock a generous amount of health away, but the monster was not amused. With a terrible cry, it changed its target to the berserker below, quickly repositioning to snap at him with its sharp beak. The talons, however, had knocked him away, down, down, and down below as he vainly tried to steady himself.

Finally, the flying fish mount managed to get upright, and he narrowly dodged the diving Roc as its enormous body dived at him. Luckily, they were low enough now so that their health was not being taken off by the seconds, but regardless, this fight had just gotten far more difficult.

The Roc was more aggressive now, plunging and moving at quick speeds despite its large and bulky body. It took both the combined effort of Scarred and VolDeMort to kite it, and things weren't working so well with that. The belly was now unreachable, so very far away as it moved, and he could hardly get in a strike at all.

What were they going to do now? Was there some other weak point?

Scarred struck down mercilessly at its spine when he could, but his positioning was not always the best as he tried to dodge. The flapping wings dared to push him away again if he stayed in one place too long, and even as VolDeMort tried to get in his own shots when he could, they both were not doing very well.

"Consider this, imp," Tom began as they dodged after a particularly dangerous snap of the Roc's beak, "Hypothetically, if you were a bird, or any type of animal, really, what would your one constant weak point?"

Harry frowned contemplatively. "Well… If you're thinking what I'm thinking, and we're both on the same page on how exactly that's going to go down, that's going to be impossible Tom."

"Shall we find out?"

"You're very daring when you're tired," Harry announced, "It's sort of out of character, but I like it."

"_Someone_ has to do your job when you're out of commission," drawled Tom.

"I'll get you back for that when I'm more awake. Ready to try out this incredibly reckless idea of yours?"

"You're over-exaggerating. Despite not being able to shadow shift, I can still pull off my binds—"

"It's charging! Move!"

VolDeMort spiraled, barely managing to bypass the snapping beak. The Roc, however, did not end its attack there. It continued to charge at the player, mouth wide open with a deadly glint in its eyes. _Looks like it was going in for the kill._

Scarred swooped around, staying close to the Roc's back. He accidentally went down too low, bumping into its feathers and—surprisingly—dismounting. Harry hadn't known he could do that.

_Whatever. Time to go—_

Seeing his companion in position, VolDeMort spun around to face the beast directly. Dark tendrils reached forward and struck directly into the Grand Roc's mouth, but it was still undeterred despite its falling health.

_Fine then. If that's not going to finish you off—_

Scarred lifted his sword above his head—

_Then perhaps—_

The dark lord's form disappeared as it melted into inky sludge, and despite not knowing if this would work correctly or not, he lunged forward, hisses of darkness spilling forth from the substance that defied gravity.

_This will!_

At the same time as VolDeMort struck into the mouth of the monster, Scarred took action. He jammed his sword into the eyeball of the beast, piercing it all and twisting his sword to swing out in the wide arc of an Ecliptic Slice for good measure. It ripped through the bird, flinging out blood and more blood and perhaps even a few meaty bits as well.

The Grand Roc did not even have the voice to cry out one last final time.

And then they were falling, descending quickly to the ground. It seemed to be another cutscene, but had looked awfully realistic that the two players had not even recognized the transition at first. All the way up here… who was to say that they would land on the island that was the lake?

Who was to say that they wouldn't land on the sharpened peaks of the mountains instead?

Scarred reached out for VolDeMort, who had reappeared to be falling as well. Their mounts were nowhere to be seen, probably moving down quickly but not as nearly fast as the speed they were descending at.

From both of the two players' outstretched finger tips appeared a curiously familiar light. It was a warm color, a shade of wonderful white and yet not, changing and changing still even as its core stayed the same. As it faded away, the locket appeared then, consuming the glow and using it as a chain to wrap around both of the wizards' heads. How it stayed in place despite their evident fall was unknown, but it was certainly beautiful to look at.

The Roc missed the lake entirely, tumbling down into the misty mountains instead. Both VolDeMort and Scarred, however, fell into the center of the lake, the water seeming to go on forever and decelerating them until they drifted mindlessly, hands linked and locket in between them.

What followed next was another series of cutscenes, most entailing the complex process of obtaining the title of "their souls being perfectly wed", which both Tom and Harry snorted at. It was revealed that the horcrux had been made of slivers of their souls' essences, collected and made into a concrete object, so that this horcrux was now able to be remade into a type of crest that would gift them the magic that would bind them together… magically. Thus, the Magic Core System.

Honestly, it was more of a "we're finally done!" feeling that they both got from the end anyways, but it was still very gratifying to see the shiny particle effect and glow that overtook their characters once they returned to the normal maps.

When Harry yawned as he voiced his opinion, Tom made a show of lifting his chin and pronouncing pretentiously, "I'm afraid these particle effects and glows don't quite fit in with my dark lord image."

Harry snorted and dissolved into chuckles that would've been much louder if he was not so tired. "Stay five meters away then."

"See that you do that," Tom said seriously. "I expect a contract signed ASAP."

"Arse."

* * *

**This chapter, man... this chapter... So, there was a lack of actual fluff, but it was more content related and had two (!) boss fights, I suppose you could say, so there you go to people who wanted a bit more on CoS.**

**It also shows to reveal that yes, even though the quest chain was ridiculously long, it was also made with a hidden purpose-to test things out for Muggle Games that also _might _be used elsewhere. Hint hint. Can't get any clearer than that, guys.**

**As my longest chapter in The Game, I have to say that I'm a bit disappointed that nothing else could be fit in (otherwise it would just drag on for too long, though I think it already has), but things will pick back up hopefully next chapter. ALSO! Sorry to any reviewers who I told Tom and Harry would get together before Draco was officially introduced-I derped and screwed up my time line (that's all over the place and practically nonexistent so don't ask for it in a PM/review). **

**They'll get together right afterwards though, so there you go.**

**Thanks a lot to all those reviews! Almost 200 already?! Ah, geez, I love you guys so much! Like said, if you have any questions or comments, please drop one and I'll be sure to reply to it as soon as I get the time to! As a little treat, I'll reveal that: next chapter is obviously Draco, chapter after that is Tom and Harry getting together (in my own failfail way; I swear I'm too lazy to actually develop Harry to get there so please bear with me on that one), with a little peek from the Marauders + Lily, there will be a small arc afterwards (possibly spanning two chapters? More likely that it's going to be only one though, since I'm more of a slice-of-life author in this story) including Draco and some Slytherins, as well as DH (ofc). **

**THE SMALL HINT ABOUT _THAT_ PARTICULAR CHAPTER IS ON MY PROFILE. It's the only thing that's different. Though, I bet you can't guess what's going to happen! My hints previously were very subtle and very few, and the one on my profile is quite vague :). I'll love to hear your guesses though!**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	20. Quest XVII: Blond and Biting

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

"**A**s you've already noticed, we have a new student today," began Madame Delacour, her speech accented with the French language that she had grown up speaking. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

Said student who she was speaking to walked to the front of the classroom, spun gracefully, and lifted his chin, looking out over the seated teenagers as if to judge them. Finally, he nodded, and in a superior tone, said, "_Je m'appelle_ Draco Malfoy. _Enchanté_."

Something inside of Harry sparked, setting off just by the way the bloke had spoken. He brushed it off though, preferring to keep up his school personality and just go with the flow, like he always did. Beside him, Hermione frowned, not bothering to mask_ her_ dislike. Though, because she was such a good-hearted person, she had also decided to give him the benefit of the doubt—no matter how much her boyfriend bristled in open loathing at the blond.

Madame Delacour smiled. "Well then, let us get you a seat, yes? Considering that _Monsieur_ Potter is to show you around, it is best if you are placed by him. _Alors,_ _Monsieur_ Potter, raise your hand, _s'il vous pl__â__it_!"

Harry obeyed. Instantly, though his hand was not stretched up very high, the young Malfoy spotted him and they locked eyes. Silvery grey met calm green in what almost was like a passive aggressive clash, or well, it _was_ until the former seemed to find something he liked and smirked, nodding his head in his approval.

Granger nor Weasley seemed to like this arrogant personality, and the latter held back his bite of insult and settled for a glare as Malfoy made his way over. In a quiet whisper, Hermione scolded her boyfriend for his animosity, though she bit her lip all the while, having not gotten a very good vibe from the boy either.

The class resumed what they had been doing before, namely chattering and whispering about things ranging from schoolwork to the latest gossip. Certainly, one of the new topics was about the new student, but judging comments were kept to a minimum, seeing as their teacher had an acute ear for hearing such things. Harry juggled between the two ideas of introducing himself politely or remaining standoffish and returning to his reading.

Well, he _was_ stuck to the boy, wasn't he? _Might as well keep some peace._

That decided he turned to Malfoy, who sat on his right rather than on his left where Granger sat in front of Weasley, and with great care in keeping manners though still seeming courteous rather than a suck-up, said, "Nice to meet you. I'm Harry Potter."

Weasley made a noise of distaste. Granger smiled, pleased with her friend's social attempt.

Malfoy nodded aristocratically. "Yes, I know. Se—Professor Snape told me about you before class," then, his eyes travelled up and down Harry's upper bust, judging him. "I'm _sure_ we'll get along just fine," he finished; his cold, superior smile a sharp jab to Harry's nerves.

_Oh, _he certainly didn't like this prat very much, but he supposed that he'd have a little faith in his sage and go with it. Severus' support status certainly didn't just end in-game, otherwise he wouldn't be a very good one.

Harry kept his face passive, despite all of his inner thoughts. Instead of snapping at the boy with a well worded insult or two, he nodded his acceptance and returned to his book. This was school—not in private. He'd done his part of being polite. It'd be easier to be calm and in the background than cause unnecessary trouble, which he certainly didn't need, especially from a boy who not only was his friend's godson but was also someone that he'd be stuck with… for awhile. Their schedules, which he had gotten the chance to compare when Severus had given him a copy earlier, were quite alike, only a class or so off.

Just as he returned to his business, Hermione got up. Harry knew this would cause bad things to come—just by the determined set of her face. She stood in front of Malfoy's desk, smiled, and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger. I know that Harry is already in charge of helping you around, but I just want you to know that I'm also here to help if you need any assistance with your classes or the school in general."

Like he had done with Harry, Malfoy looked at her with that _judging _type of stare; glancing at her hand, then her face, then back to her hand before sneering. "Yes, well, I assure you I won't need any… assistance from _you_. I'm quite sure _Harry_ is enough help as it is, and I'd rather not waste my time else wise."

Hermione was taken aback, as was Harry with the casual use of his first name. Internally, he bristled again, but on the outside he had hardly batted an eyelash to it. _Please don't do anything stupid, Hermione…_ he prayed.

"Oh, well," she began, trying to save herself while still looking for the good in other people, "it wouldn't be any trouble for me at all, and Harry is actually one of my close friends, so if you go to either of us—"

"I'm sorry, you must've not heard me the first time," Malfoy interrupted, cold smile plastered onto his face. It was certainly nothing compared to Tom's; more like a child's attempt than anything, but obviously Granger had never met Tom and, as such, felt the insult and inferiority it was supposed to bring. "I said that I'd rather not waste _my _time, not _yours._ I'm also quite sure that, since Harry is the one assigned to assist me, after all, that he will be available for any questions I'd ever have. So you see, your help is not quite needed, though _thank you for the offer._" The last part was said with the slightest hint of mockery, just enough for Hermione to catch.

She reeled back physically, affronted by the rejection of her honest offer, and as a good boyfriend should, Weasley leapt to her defense.

"Hey now, just because you're new doesn't mean you can go insulting other people and think you can get away with it! Hermione was only trying to help! If you didn't want it, you could at least be more _polite _about it!" Ron cried, standing up and maneuvering his way to his girlfriend's side.

Harry wanted to let his head meet his desk. _So much for not causing trouble, hmm?_

Malfoy merely raised a brow, looking at Weasley as if he were an insignificant pest that had just so happened to land in the range of his eyesight. "Ah, well, yes… I suppose _you_ would know plenty about that, wouldn't you?" Then, he glanced down at his nails, inspecting them in clear dismissal of the two that stood before him.

Ron turned red. He could never quite hold his temper very well—

Just as what was sure to turn into a verbal fight was about to begin, the bell rang for class to began. Instantly, Madame Delacour called for order and for everyone to return to their seats—in perfect French, of course; it was their last year and hardly the beginning of it, so they all were expected to understand her verbal commands—which Weasley and Granger were forced to do. Malfoy looked smug.

Harry decided the desk was not merely a hard enough surface. Perhaps the stone wall surrounding the campus would be better... He just knew somehow he would get caught in this whole mess that his friends had started.

And, true to that assumption, the rest of the day was filled with much tension between Hermione, Ronald, and Malfoy. Weasley, of course, was the main initiator, still feeling quite fowl about his damsel being insulted, and Malfoy played the part of the calm villain who struck back at every opportunity, though never making the first move. Hermione was understandably upset with the whole ordeal.

Neville and Luna stayed out of it, distancing themselves from _that_ particular quarrel.

Harry found himself unwillingly dragged into it. It was baffling, really—he had hardly spoken three sentences to the bloke and now Malfoy was clinging to him like a squirrel to its acorn! Not only that, but his aristocratic personality _still_ grated on Harry's nerves, though he sought to reply what he knew were useless questions to merely catch his attention with absolute calm and patience. What would Tom say if he knew that Harry had been undone by a mere _child_?

He had control, damn it, and just because of one brat he would not lose it!

Severus took one look at him and sighed, nodding his head in clear understanding of what was going on. Malfoy was standing uncomfortably close to him; just enough it would not be an outright invasion of private space, but also enough so that it would be clear that they were, well, _companions_, he supposed.

This was stupid… and would continue to be for the rest of the week.

A couple days after Malfoy's introduction and irritating presence, Harry plopped himself down at his computer chair, happy to be home and away from… well, _people_. His patience was used up; having been chipped down every single time Malfoy had asked him some random question and then discreetly turned to look at Hermione and Ron with a smug gleam in his eyes. It was childish. Childish, but done in such a manner that it could not have possibly been done _by a child_, and Harry supposed that was just it.

Malfoy was older, more mature than a kid, so his tactics and the way his brain worked were distinctly different and more advanced… but that didn't make Harry feel any better, because he still got the feeling that he was some toy to be fought over. It was either his friends, or the new student who he was forced to guide around.

He rested his forehead against the desk, right by the keyboard. _Ugh._

"Problems, imp?" Tom asked, raising a brow at the sight of his companion looking utterly exhausted.

Harry relaxed at the sound of Tom's voice. "People won't leave me alone," he replied.

"Oh?"

"Person," corrected Severus unconsciously, which he regretted immediately as their resident dark lord's whole stance shifted.

"Might I ask who's causing you such… trouble?"

Completely oblivious to Tom's narrowed gaze, as his eyes were still very much closed and his face very much directed to the floor, Harry huffed and said, "Just a prat. It's nothing big, really—just irritating. Are we going to do anything today?"

"Not if you're feeling unwell."

"I'm fine," he replied, raising his arm only to wave dismissively before dropping it again.

Severus sighed, putting his fears behind him to join the conversation. "Perhaps we should take a break, or do something mindless? You don't look up to dealing with… other people."

"We'd be fine if you two actually did something," grumbled Harry. "Why do I always have to talk for us? S'not like I'm the famous one here. That's Voldie."

"I'd rather not deal with—as you put it so nicely, Severus—_other people_," Tom replied, storing away the gist of his companion's problem for later. The imp would tell him at some point, and then…

Harry lifted his head only long enough to give his companions a look. "Right. Dump all the stuff you don't want to do on _me_…"

"Putting that aside," interrupted Severus, "Since we're talking about issues, what about the other problem that we have?"

Both Tom and Harry straightened, realizing what their third team mate was talking about. "Cypher's an ass," snarled the latter. "The second we're able to prove that _he's_ the cause behind—"

"But we _don't_ have proof, imp," cut in Tom. "At least, not _yet…_ And I _do_ have a hunch on who's _really_ behind this, but as long as we're unable to do anything about it, no action can be taken."

"The run is in two weeks," their sage tiredly pointed out. "How are we going to fix this? Any practices that we've went through all ended the same way—disconnection."

"They're not even hacking _us_," groused Harry. "It's the server! If they were hacking _us,_ I'd be able to do something about it… but I can't. Hell, Muggle can't even do anything about it because they don't _know_ what's going on!"

"Can't send any support tickets either," agreed Severus. "Though we have proof that it's happening, we _do not _have proof on who's the cause or how they're doing it. All of latest hacks have already been patched over; I checked. The best Muggle can do is patch over _this_ one, but I doubt they could get that done right after their newest update. We're facing the cream of the crop here."

Tom sighed and rubbed his temples. "The Baron is clueless as well. I contacted him earlier asking for information about other clans experiencing this issue."

"They're all over the Elite—just targeting us. How the hell are we supposed to do a run now?" muttered Harry angrily.

The three sat in silence. If they couldn't find a solution, it was mutually agreed (unspoken, of course) that the run would have to be canceled. Boss runs took time and galleons, two things that they rather not devoid the Faction or their allies of. But it was a struggle nonetheless—they would _not_ lie down and take this. If only they could find out _who_ was the cause—

The next morning, Harry awoke from his sleep spell fairly early. Rolling over to his side, he didn't even try to block his yawn with a hand. _Fuck_, he didn't want to go to school.

But some things just had to happen, it seemed.

By the time it was fifteen minutes before the end of lunch break, Harry decided he could spend his last few precious minutes before another class doing something brainless and, well, productive. He'd start on his English report.

Thus, wandering over to one of the less-crowded computer labs (honestly a place he'd rather not be—his own computer was just so much more comforting to sit in front of than a limited access, restricted desktop), he easily took out his id, scanned it to get access to the room, and strolled inside, not expecting anyone to be in there.

At all.

Okay, so he was wrong—_that_ was his first impression upon seeing Malfoy, who had jumped out of his seat, standing like a deer in headlights, wearing… glasses?

Harry blinked. Then he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't just seeing things. Well, now that he thought about it, Malfoy _had_ been suspiciously absent after class, hadn't he? Not that he was complaining or anything—blessed silence was always appreciated (though perhaps that wasn't quite the accurate term for today; Ron and Hermione had gotten into one of their spats). He _had_ been tension free though, so perhaps that was why he hadn't noticed?

"H-Harry!" greeted Malfoy, stuttering slightly and looking completely caught off guard. "Weren't you eating lunch with Granger and Weasley?"

"…I finished," said Harry, with a tone that told Malfoy very clearly what he thought of this strange situation—absolutely nothing.

"…Oh."

"Yeah."

"...—"Malfoy opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then seemed to decide against it and his lips closed shut.

Harry raised a brow.

"Er—I was just—well, certainly not doing anything worth talking about, you know? I mean—nothing _illegal_, or anything that could be used to blackmail me and/or put me into a vulnerable position—"rambled the blond, probably not even aware of what he was saying anymore.

"Right," calmly agreed Harry with a nod of his head. "I never said you were."

"Pardon?"

"I never said you were possibly doing… _illicit_ affairs within, of all things, one of the school's many computer labs, which just so happens to be annoyingly blocked against just about anything but popular e-mail sites, educational research, web browser image searches, and word documents."

"…R-Right," said Malfoy, laughing nervously as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. "How silly of me to have misheard so."

Now Harry gave him a deadpan look, because he had hardly said three words to the student. Honestly, if the boy was having one of his off days, couldn't he be warned ahead of time? He had no idea what was going on in Malfoy's brain, and decided right then and there that he didn't _want_ to, _ever_.

"Okay then," murmured Harry slowly, "I guess I'll just… be going now…"

"Oh! Yes, uh, right—"another nervous chuckle left the blond's lips, and he hastily straightened his attire before striding forward towards the door, completely missing the incredulous look Harry was giving him.

Right before Malfoy touched the door handle he was about to grab, Harry spoke up. "…What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"Malfoy," began Harry slowly as if he were speaking to one of the mentally ill, "What are you doing?"

"Uh—"The blond's gaze fell upon where he was reaching for the handle,"—just… getting the door for you? T-that's what friends do, you know…"

"No…" muttered Harry under his breath, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as Malfoy held upon the door for him. "I don't…"

He walked out in a daze, confused on why he was going to the computer lab in the first place. _Honestly—_the things Malfoy did to distract him! _Whatever_. Harry shook his head as he walked away, intent on going to his next class before the bell rung and started the classroom rush. He was definitely feeling a bit touched in the head, too, because he could've _sworn_ he heard a feminine laughter coming from the closed computer room.

"_Honestly, Draco! 'Getting the door for you'? 'Nothing illegal'? How _are_ you surviving without us there with you—?"_

And then Draco's furious, embarrassed shout—_"Shut up Pansy! You too, Theo! Knock it off, okay?! I was panicking!"_

* * *

**Miss me? Haha, fear not! I've been busy before updating this chapter. Being sick plus finals plus the consequential writer's block does that to people :). And, obviously, I've done some writing too to get rid of that pesky disease! **

**Please check out Camaraderie (a TMR/HP slash with word prompts and a slightly drabble-y feel) and the new installment to Blood Stained and Lettered! There will also be a LV/HP AU oneshot coming in the future (hopefully the near), so please look out for that too. Hopefully I'll also get a new Blood Stained and Lettered chapter up, but let's see where my muse takes me first, right?**

**As a note: I'm sooo behind on replying to reviews for this story! Please don't fear-I'll get to you soon! Those with burning questions will be put in priority~ Thanks! ****And feel free to still review wherever, whenever, however! I love hearing from you all! Thanks a lot for helping me reach the 200 review mark~ all of your reviews have been read and held dearly to my heart :love:.**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**

* * *

_In Case You Didn't Know:_

Je m'appelle: my name is...; literally: I call myself...

Enchante: nice to meet you

Alors: literally: so then; equivalent of English "So" or informal "Hey" (as in to catch attention or start a new subject or to follow up on a statement made, NOT as the greeting lol)

S'il vous plait: please; literally: if it pleases you; (FORMAL)


	21. Quest XVIII: Above No Ground

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**I**t was a Sunday morning that Harry waltzed out of the Potter (-Lupin-Black) house carrying a medium sized jar of a variant of peppermint bark—dark chocolate replacing the white.

It wasn't Christmas, but ever since he had discovered Tom's (not-so-secret-anymore) "addiction" to mint, the teenager had been determined. So, that in mind, he asked Remus to pull a few strings for him to get some good peppermint hard candy—not the store bought kind that came in huge bags!—and not necessarily candy canes. He had gotten an odd though amused look, but ultimately the job was done and Harry was pleased.

During the week he hadn't really been able to wait, so had made a few dark chocolate mint macaroons and had delivered it to Tom one evening. He then made sure to put the recipe in the "secret" drawer in the kitchen for Remus. All in all, he was quite proud of himself this week. Harry didn't really know that something was going to change, and he would never have guessed it, even if it had spelt itself out right in front of his face.

His curious family peeked lightly over whatever they were doing, watching with unveiled interest as the only son of the Potters strolled out of the door, humming a merry tune.

Today, he and Tom were meeting in a more secluded park, farther away than the one they usually met at. But Harry was perfectly okay with that; it wasn't _too_ far, and he wasn't complaining that it was because a new café had opened up that _apparently_ served the best macaroons ever. _That_ was what had caused his small cooking bout in the middle of the week, but now Tom was treating _him_, so that part was more than okay.

He wanted to taste Remus' rivals, anyways. Perhaps he should have a small macaroon battle… they also apparently had some exotic flavors too.

Seeing Tom sitting on a blanket behind the lake, the shade from the trees behind him setting the perfect cool spot, Harry couldn't help but grin as he waved to his friend. There was a small, obviously cutesy box beside the man, and no doubt that contained the small rounded pastries that he had promised.

"I didn't know that this was going to be a picnic," teased Harry as he took his seat.

Tom raised a brow. "We have food, a perfectly fine, quiet, _secluded_ spot—is it really so wrong to want to take advantage of that?"

The teenager huffed in mock anger. "Then you should've bought hot chocolate with those," he said, pointing at the macaroons and turning his head away.

Tom was unfazed. "I heard their hot chocolate wasn't very good."

"Excuses, excuses…"

Their conversations continued at ease, teasing and sometimes serious. At some point, Harry had began to munch on the macaroons and had even managed to feed Tom one—well, _half of one_, ("Ha!") but who was counting? Point was, a very smug Harry lounged under the shaded spot Tom had picked out while the latter had conceded to having his guard down—a mistake he said he wouldn't make again.

By that point, Harry was (secretly) determined to prove him wrong the very same day.

But _before_ that, he would have to deal with a now mischievous Tom who seemed to want to get him back for that earlier feeding expense. They were now munching on the peppermint bark, which Harry had made sure to have a lot of in one jar so Tom would be able to bring some home. But that was besides the point—because said man was _also_ on the verge of losing his eat-Harry's-baking privileges.

"Will you stop that?" cried said male, red dusting his cheeks as he tried to glare at his companion, who was smugly munching on the piece of bark he had just _ate right out of Harry's grip._

"Tsk tsk imp, being greedy now aren't you? I'm sure you can go make all you want at home—I'm simply trying to enjoy what I can, you know."

The younger scowled. "There's a big jar right there that you can eat out of, not to mention you're going to be _taking it home_. Knock it off." He tried to flick Tom's forehead in a sad attempt at revenge, but utterly failed when Tom merely took grip of his wrist and leaned over to take a bite of the new piece of bark Harry had gotten.

Tom hummed. "You're going to have to try harder than _that_, imp."

Said imp immediately moved his hand away as his companion leaned in again. "No, _you _are."

Eyes narrowing, Tom smirked. "Is that a challenge I hear?"

Harry knew he should be scared on _some_ level of his conscious, but he couldn't back down now. Not when—not when—not when Tom was openly taunting him! "That depends," he shot back, "do you _really_ think you can take it from me?" One look at the elder's face and Harry regretted saying anything.

Tom leaned in again, but Harry, fully expecting him to aim for the sweet, _did not_ expect the man to get right close and personal with his _ear_ and whisper, "Do you really think you can _stop_ me?"

Harry couldn't help his shocked reaction—he froze. This gave his companion the perfect time to reach over, grab the piece of bark from his hand, and toss it up in the air to catch in his mouth, all done with an air of smug satisfaction and victorious glee.

"…That wasn't fair," he grumbled as he turned glaring eyes to Tom.

Said person merely smirked and raised a brow. "What are you going to do about it?"

_This probably isn't the best idea ever, but_—now it was Harry's turn to invade his companion's personal space, moving quickly so that they were face to face so he was able to simply reply, "Take it back, obviously," before the first move was taken.

Yeah. Probably not the best idea ever—depending on how and _who_ looked at it.

Because kissing Tom to get back his piece of candy probably wasn't anything _either_ of them prepared for, though ultimately if it were looked at solely from the reference of their impromptu challenge, Harry came out the winner on that one.

Whether there was _another_ winner, for whatever more there was—honestly, vagueness would only be _expected_ if one's first kiss had some tongue in it—was debatable. For one, after releasing Tom, Harry was left with the aftertaste of a bitter peppermint sweetness, all oxymorons being ignored because that's what dark chocolate peppermint bark would taste like.

Seriously, he was only distracting himself now; trying to stop the reddening of his cheeks as blush so clear against his pale skin began to show, and then Tom would see and _know_—

Know what?

_Fuck_. What the hell had he just done?

But Tom wouldn't let him think much, because before Harry knew it he was being pulled in for another kiss, much gentler though still just as sweet—and evidently lacking tongue, which the younger was still unsure of labeling that as a good or bad thing—right after the mumble of "you win; your prize…" against his lips.

Oh.

_Oh._ So this was what kissing was like. Okay.

If anything, it left Harry dazed and light headed, finding his confusion not helping matters. His blush was now fully present and totally noticeable, but Tom didn't exactly focus on that (no matter how tauntingly cute it was). Rather, he seemed to see something in Harry's eyes—no doubt the confusion—that had him pulling back with a frown after their kiss ended. But Harry was reluctant to part with Tom's warmth so suddenly. Before he even knew what he was doing, he had grabbed the latter's sleeve as if in attempt to stop him from leaving.

Surprise reflected off of both their faces, but Tom was the one who acted faster. He smoothly pulled Harry to him, allowing the boy to cling to him and bury his face into his clothed shoulder. "I'm not going to leave," Tom murmured.

Harry wordlessly nodded, his grip slightly shaky for a reason he could not explain—not now. He didn't want to think of it, of—of—

"You need to tell me what you want, Harry," Tom finally said.

And wasn't that the million dollar question? What _did_ he want? Harry didn't quite now. Was it Tom's companionship, his presence, his joy, his happiness? Was it the free laughter they sometimes shared together, or the moments when all the shit hit the fan and the man could _still_ be calm and collected, settling his worries with simple words and simple gestures? Or was it… was it… was it something related to that kiss? Did he… did he want Tom in _that_ way?

He didn't know. He couldn't decide. Even though the last was new, everything was simply… _Tom_. He couldn't say he wanted one specific aspect of the man, because that would be a lie—he wanted everything _else_ that came with it. The anger, the laughter, the joy, the sorrow, the muted awkward silences, the calm relaxing days, the insecurity, the reassurances, the—

And Harry was startled to realize that he couldn't lie to Tom about this. He couldn't lie, and say he wanted the man because that wasn't entirely true—he wanted Tom and _more_, whatever that _more_ was. But he also didn't know _how_ he wanted him, because anything seemed like anything and he couldn't make up his mind, not when everything was mashed together and his feelings were unraveled balls of yarn, threads tangled up together with all of the colors mixed, never to be separated unless a pair of scissors cut them all away.

But what was it, Harry wondered, that would be _his_ pair of scissors? Wouldn't it be ironic if it were Tom, Tom who was the cause of the mess, to be the very thing that could clean it up? With sharp, precise cuts, careful not to snip away at _just anything_, because the yarn, representing Harry's feelings, weren't something to be thrown away or dealt with carelessly. And the man always knew that.

So what _did_ he want? He didn't know. And hopefully, Tom would understand that, because Harry loathed telling him anything but that simple truth.

"I don't know," Harry said, crisp and clear and willing his companion to understand.

But Tom didn't. Underneath the younger's tight grip, he felt the man tense and he knew that if he looked up, Tom would be looking in some other direction.

Now it was Harry's turn to get it right. If—if Tom thought it had been a rejection—

But why would the man be upset about that? Did Tom care about Harry in _that _way? Or was this tense atmosphere something else? Was it just wishful thinking? Were these confused feelings of his, so crazed and meshing all together with themselves, giving him the wrong message? Harry wanted to look up, to look into Tom's eyes to confirm whatever truth there was, but he couldn't. He felt like if he didn't do anything now, if he didn't _say_ anything now, he'd lose whatever chance he had for this… this companionship to become… more.

Now, what _more_ was, Harry wasn't exactly sure, but he couldn't let whatever it was slip through his fingers. He didn't want the sand to be washed away by the waves, didn't want the water to run through his fingers and leave nothing but a glistened sheen to show it had been there in the first place. He… He didn't want a simple _memory_; an imprint of what was and what could've been.

But could he say it? His throat felt dry and clogged up, as if something within him were stopping him from uttering the words Tom might need to hear. He wondered if any sound would be uttered if he opened his mouth and tried, heat and anxiety filling his system and leaving him hesitant and unsure. What if he was wrong? What if… what if his words did the exact opposite of their intent?

And what if it caused Tom to push him away? He didn't think he could bear life without the man anymore. Perhaps once upon a time he had been that boy, that boy who didn't have any best friends, who stayed at arms' length with anyone and everyone, whose life only existed to please the few he kept close to his heart. But Harry couldn't remember being that boy anymore, that lonely, lonely boy, stuck in the small cupboard of his heart, yearning for someone to open the door for him.

Because he had been too afraid to do it himself.

Because he had been too afraid to see what was on the other side, alone…

Because deep down inside, he didn't like change. Didn't want it. This wish for that door to open was his guilty pleasure, a change that he secretly wanted but could not accept, which was why someone had to do it for him, to open that door.

"That—"Harry struggled, his voice feeling hoarse even though it sounded perfectly fine to his ears,"—that wasn't a rejection."

If possible, Tom seemed to stiffen further. "…What?" he asked quietly.

More confidently this time, Harry repeated, "That wasn't a rejection."

Tom gulped. His arms came around the boy resting upon him, at first tentative but then tightening with a desperate search for confidence. "No?" he whispered.

"N-no…"

And Harry found that he was glad when Tom relaxed, when those arms wrapped around him and squeezed caringly. Even though the yarn inside him was still a complete and utter mess, it was calmer now. Suddenly he could see the individual colors, entangled together, creating some type of picture that only he could see, only he could decipher, because wasn't that how it always was? No one could understand him as well as he himself could, so no one could take care of the clutter except for himself.

Perhaps it had been foolish to expect Tom to do it for him; no, all Tom had done was lent him a birds-eye view. While originally Harry had been in the middle of the turmoil, now he was looking at it as a whole from the outside, and he realized that this wasn't so bad after all.

He felt Tom bury his noise in his hair, and gentle lips kiss his head. So this was what it felt like—to be held this way, so intimately, so _different_ from the friendly though affectionate touches they had shared earlier. How different it was, with a simple position adjustment, to experience different feelings entirely!

And then there were the kisses that came, gently over his face, his nose, his chin, his lips. Harry found himself both surprised and embarrassed of how inexperienced he felt, but then all the hesitation was whipped away when Tom laughed. It was the easy, freeing type of laughter that was light and airy and lasted for barely three seconds, but Harry knew he was the only one who had heard it in a very, very long time.

It was like the slow, wispy fall of a leaf that Tom taught him how to kiss, first softly and then with fervor. Like the leaf, Harry didn't exactly know what way he was going—only that it was down. Down, down, spiraling down, floating down, swiftly to his descent and mysterious destination, but when he got there, he found it was the sweetest plunge of all. Even if there had been the roughness of the ground—even if there had been _no ground at all_—he found that he knew when he had reached it, that beautiful, satisfying revelation of his.

Harry smiled into Tom's insistent kisses, for he knew what he wanted now.

And he made sure Tom knew it too.

* * *

**...You're probably like: "OMG SHE'S BATSHIT CRAZY WHY DAT WENT SO FAST WTF RELATIONSHIP IN LYKE 2K WORDS" right now. That's okay. I'll just... y'know... go hide... under a rock. Or something. ._.;**

**Yeah. Bye. 'Til next time, I guess.**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**

P.S.: Listening to sweet, cutesy songs to set my mood for a fluffy chapter. First Kiss - BJJ, set on repeat, forever... :heart:


	22. Quest XIX: Cutscene 6X

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

Lily Potter watched curiously as her son closed the door behind him, looking very much the part of a boy happily in love. Or, well, infatuated. He had been going out every weekend without fail for over a month—she had lost count—and each and every time, he brought some food out with him. It made her wonder; wouldn't a date at some cafe be better than constantly bringing his own food... wherever he was going? Or was he going to a house, where—

Lily paused in her train of thought. She slowly began to wonder if Harry even knew how deep he'd fallen. Not like it was a bad thing, so to speak, but she was very, very curious as to whom this mysterious girl was. Or man—because she wasn't going to exclude that category just yet. Not with the small glimpse she had caught on that one night. Not when she had her suspicions, as disconnected as they were.

But Harry, her kind, gentle son, was always so hard to read. His emotions played out on his face expressively, perfectly, so clear and telling that it was a surprise when he turned around to do the exact opposite. Perhaps this was one of those situations.

She had promised not to ask the first time, or well, at least said she wouldn't, but Lily was drowning in curiosity, and so was the rest of the family. _Where_ was Harry going? _Who_ was he meeting up with? _What_ was he doing? And… how did it make him so happy? It wasn't that Harry never looked joyful, or pleased, or content, or satisfied; no, his smiles weren't false and the light in his eyes was always genuine. But to see this—this strange, strange look—fleeting across his face, always on weekends, always before he would go out…

Never had she thought she would see her son so _excited_ before. Not when it was Christmas and he was but six years old, not when it was his birthday—not during _any_ holiday in fact—, not when Remus gave him sweets, not when Sirius took him out to see his first ever soccer game, not when they went on a summer vacation, not for anything school related, not when—not when—

Harry had never really been someone for excitement, to feel a sparking anticipation. He would be surprised, slightly look forward to it maybe, but never, ever, truly _excited_. All and all, he was a calm child then, and still so _now_. But wherever he was going, to meet whoever he was meeting, _that_ made him excited.

And she was happy for him, of course! How could she not be? To see that smile, that grin, that pleased and sparkling light in his eyes that were so very much like her own, how could she not be happy for him? But, damn it, her curiosity was killing her! The thought that she didn't know what the source of her son's joy was… was unsettling. She was a mother before she was a wife before she was a doctor before, well, _anything else_, really. Harry was her first priority, always.

And this was why, after all was said and done, all was thought of and discussed (for the slightest time of fifteen seconds), she was going along with this. This… this—she couldn't call it a _mission_, because that would be too dramatic, but considering that they were currently tailing her son to his destination, Lily thought this would be rather high up on the scale of importance. If anyone asked, she completely blamed it _all_ on the trio of Marauders. Even after school they were still getting into mischief!

"Look!" hissed Sirius, looking absolutely ridiculous in his, quote, disguise, unquote. "He's stopping!"

"And laughing," pointed out Remus who was somewhat amused with the situation.

"Who's that he's talking to?" asked James. "I don't… I don't recognize him as any of Harry's school friends."

"Well, we _are_ looking at his back, but I agree—that is certainly _not_ a Ron Weasley or Neville Longbottom," Remus mused. He couldn't discern the age of the man either, other than the fact that he was youthful.

"But Harry seems quite… comfortable with him," Lily finally said, surprise evident in her voice. And it was true—her son had settled down, completely at ease, lounging about like he only ever did in his room or on family nights, and though they were too far away to hear what the two were saying, it was clear that they were enjoying some type of playful banter from his expression.

Sirius, always the brash one (right next to James, but he was still a bit stumped on the "who the hell is that man sitting next to my son" part), came up with the lovely suggestion of trying to creep closer. And they did—hopefully inconspicuous enough to not be noticed. Well, that _and_ the added fact that they were coming up from behind helped a lot.

They were now close enough to hear laughter. A teasing tone. A playful retort. Light mockery—a chuckle. The Marauders (plus their little female accomplice) couldn't exactly make out _words_, but they could certainly get the gist of what was going on.

"…Do you think," Remus began slowly, "that Harry is on a date?"

The curious adults paused. Moony was never one to jump to conclusions quickly—he was rational, calm, fiercely loyal (though that was besides the point), and always tried to seek out reasons when solving problems. So to think that he had decided to voice _this_ particular thought was… startling. And telling. And now they were looking back at Harry.

They watched as the two began to munch on the snacks brought, no one around to judge their lazy posture as they lounged about on the blanket spread over the grass.

Suddenly, James sighed dramatically. "Well, Padfoot, old friend—"he started, swinging an arm around Sirius' shoulder, "—I suppose that this is it. Little Prongslet is growing up, and… and... his interest lies in the same gender! We can no longer dream of lending our bountiful advice about the fairer sex to my only successor!"

Remus shook his head good naturedly. Lily didn't even bother—she went for the eye roll.

Instead of playing the mirrored sad act, Sirius grinned roguishly. "Well, _you_ may not be able to give him some tips, what with you pinning after our dear fair maiden over here—"there, he wiggled his eyebrows at Lily,"—but _I_, for one, _have _experienced with both sides. Don't worry though, Prongs! I'll be sure to teach him all I know—"

The mother of said 'him' decided to stop the godfather right there. "And _what_, exactly, would that entail?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Err—"

"Nothing too explicit," James rushed to reassure his wife. "I'm sure Sirius will be… er… _serious_ on the matter, right Padfoot?"

"Right," hastily agreed Sirius. "Completely. Just enough to ensure that everything is consented and safe, and then some."

Lily was not amused, showing it in her narrowed eyes. "And then some?"

"Well, you know, it's not enough for everything to be mutual and protected, you know? There _needs_ to be at least _some_ pleasure in it—"

Her husband decided to be the smart one, slapping a hand across Sirius' mouth to stop him from saying more. "What he means," James rushed to save, "is that, well… you know, dearest—Harry is growing up to be a fine young man, and—"

"I really hate to interrupt your heartfelt moment discussing Harry's future sex life," Remus cut in with no small amount of amusement littering his tone, "but I think you just might want to know—"

"Know what?" Sirius asked, ears perked for listening and eyes wide in curiosity. He had managed to rip away from James' silencing attempts, and was now fully focused on his long time friend.

"Well," Remus began, playing on the suspense. "They're kissing."

Even Lily chimed in to the chorused "WHAT?!" Immediately after, though, they all realized their mistake and quieted. Then, three heads (the fourth had already seen and had no wish to look again and become a spectator to the intimate moment) turned forward towards the park's lake, trying to get a glimpse of the scene.

And there it was—rather clear as day, one would probably say. There really wasn't anything much to describe. Harry and the mysterious man were kissing, who kissed who a specific that only Remus (if he had been watching) and the two really knew. They then watched, as the details hadn't sunk in yet, the two cuddle close, Harry snuggling into the man's shoulder.

Lily didn't really know what to say. James was shocked. Remus and Sirius were—well, with the former it was quite hard to say. He didn't look _surprised_, but he didn't look like he had known about this either. Sirius was a _whole_ other story.

"What," Sirius said, mouth agape and not really paying attention as to what was coming out of it. "What," he repeated, and then reached over to shake James' shoulder. "James, are you seeing this?! Harry is—Harry is—"

"Kissing an unidentified man?" James asked in equally shocked monotone.

"BOTTOM!" shouted the godfather, and Lily didn't even race Remus in an attempt to smack the man over the head.

"Hush," the assaulter scolded calmly. "They'll notice us if you're any louder."

Finally, the only female in to the group snapped out of her stupor. "Uhm… Uhm… I think we should… go… and leave Harry to his… business," Lily managed to get out, ripping her eyes away from the intimate sight. She knew the feeling that welled inside of her heart. This was—this was—she was intruding upon a private moment between her son and another. _That_ wasn't right; they should go.

Slowly, the more mischievous members of the Marauder trio nodded as well, subdued in a fashion Lily had rarely ever seen.

"Uh huh," Sirius nodded, finally managing to look away as well. He turned, as if to resist temptation, and tugged James with him.

Remus inclined his head in the opposite direction, the way they took to walk back to the house after tailing the Potter son. And it was during this—on the way—that he decided a few things needed to be made clear before the two lost their shock.

"So," Moony said in an amiable tone, "there certainly isn't a need to bombard Harry with questions when he gets home, right?"

"Mmm…"

"And we're not going to go snooping as to _who_ he's seeing, right?"

"Mmm…"

"We'll make sure that Harry will tell us when he's ready, not under any coercion that will risk him being utterly embarrassed and not inclined to tell us anything ever again… _right_?"

"Right," idly murmured James.

Lily shook her head, also shocked but certainly not to the extent of her husband and her son's godfather. No… but at least her curiosity was sated, if anything. She wondered if Severus knew anything, what with being a teacher at the school. Was the person Harry was with a student there? Had they known each other long? Had they always been on so… friendly… of terms?

Perhaps she would ask later. And maybe speak to her son and hint about bringing over his… _boyfriend_.

The word sounded odd in her mind, but Lily wasn't going to disapprove of whatever gender Harry happened to like. The boy was her son! She was proud, and supportive, and oh _god_ he had been dating someone right under their noses and she hadn't even been able to bear having the thought of him having a… a… a… _companion_ that way. Oh, the shame she felt! Harry had been so happy, so excited every weekend, and she had immediately denied the thought of him _dating_ so much so that she had to see it for her own eyes until she accepted it!

Yes, she would have to make sure her son knew how supportive she was of his decisions. Relationship decisions. Then, perhaps everything would come out just fine and she would be able to meet the other male who had enraptured her son so. Lily mentally nodded, scrambling to try and organize her thoughts once more and the actions she would take.

They would have a talk, just not a pressuring talk. A chat? What would one call this? She wasn't—she wasn't—… How did one go about asking their son about his love life, making a point to avoid coming into collision with the fact that she had found out through shameful means? Rather yet, how did one go about asking _Harry_ about his love life? Successfully? Maybe she should just leave the men in the family to do it—but no, that would be taking the easy way out and who _knew_ what types of things they would tell him!

Absolutely not. That wouldn't happen. _Lily_ would be the first to talk to her son, not anyone else.

Dear god, she wasn't ready for this. She needed to talk to Severus!

* * *

Severus was feeling very, very tired as he listened to his nearly frantic friend.

"So what you're saying," he cut in as he heard her starting to get hysterical, "is that Potter is dating someone you don't know, and you don't know how to handle it."

Lily paused. "_Well, essentially, yes… but it's not that simple, Severus!"_

He was tempted to facepalm, but settled for a sigh. "I don't see how it's not."

"_You know I'm fully supportive! It's just… it's just… I don't think he'll talk to me about this!"_

"Didn't you resolve this… talking… issue awhile ago?"

"_Oh, but it's _different_ when it's about relationships! All of my coworkers all said that _their _children_ _were quite reluctant to say anything the first time, and still have a mild inclination to reserving the news until a later time. Just think, if that's what _their_ kids are like, what will _Harry_ be?! He's never the most open person, you know, even when he was so happy and carefree—why, I remember when at the age of six, James took him out one day and—"_

"Lily," Severus cut in with a no-nonsense tone he often used with his students.

He could just imagine her sagging in guilt and embarrassment over the phone. "_Sorry, Severus…"_

"Now, will you tell me exactly _what_ is going on? All I've gotten is that the brat has started dating and then… nothing," the professor dryly pointed out.

"_Oh! Well… erm… James, Sirius, and Remus _might_ have had something to do with it…"_

"Of course," groaned Severus. "When is it that they're _not_ involved? Alright, you might as well tell me what happened."

"…_WesortoffollowedHarryouttoda y—"_

"Talk slower before you continue, otherwise I'll ask you to repeat the whole thing over again five times like a child," he briskly commanded.

Lily coughed over the phone. "_We sort of… followed… Harry out today… purely for protective reasons, I assure you! I mean, it wasn't like he was going to get kidnapped or anything, but… you know! When you're a parent, you… _do_… things. Uh… So, we might have… possibly… saw him…"_

"Saw?" asked Severus impatiently.

"_We might have seen him on a date, purely by the fact that he and his companion were kissing,"_ she rushed to finish.

He felt the need for some ice cold water and a something far stronger, but that could wait for later… preferably with the two Malfoys, because getting drunk alone (or even just a bit tipsy) was a depressing thought. "Describe the other," he demanded softly. He needed to know if he was going to die anytime soon, or simply be put in a vulnerable situation depending. Tom was probably going to kill someone either way, considering that Harry had actually kissed someone, but he could at least get survival points for quickly telling him the news.

"_I only saw his back,"_ Lily confessed, "_But he was taller than Harry—perhaps by a head? Er…short dark brown hair, neat… Oh! He certainly wasn't dressed as most teenagers do these days, but you never know. His clothes were… modern? Fashionable? I don't really know what to say—but he wasn't dressed like James or Sirius, more like Remus, only slightly… sleeker. Uh… I don't think he was wearing glasses, from the distance I saw him at, and his voice was deeper than Harry's but definitely not a bass, more of a baritone—"_

"Did you hear anything that they were talking about?" Severus inquired, mind racing.

"_No, we were a bit too far to discern any words… but Severus…"_

He recognized the change in her tone immediately. "What is it?"

"_Oh, Prince!" _Lily cried in distress, _"you should've seen! Should've heard! Harry's laughter was beautiful, so carefree, so filled with joy! I can't ever say I've really heard him laugh like _that_ before—and I'm his mother! And I don't think I've ever seen him grin so much, or act so unreserved. It was… it was… at the very least all I can say is that it was shocking, and I can't give you any more of the specifics on that because I find I'm at a loss for words, even now…"_

He heard an audible swallow across the phone, as if she were trying to gain her bearings again. _"I don't know what to do, or say, or anything. I believe that I'm right in assuming that this is his first relationship, but…"_ she whispered, trailing off before beginning again, "_I also know for certain that _that_ wasn't what first relationships look like. I felt like I was invading on something terribly private, terribly _intimate_, and even now I still feel the after effects of that. How am I to speak with him, if I don't know what to say? All I know is that I _am_ supposed to speak with him of this, but of what? How?"_

Severus shut his eyes, drinking in the information as it swam laps within his head. So he had nothing to fear in his previous worries, did he not? Because the description might have been vague, but her emotional confession had revealed it all. The only person that damnable brat could've been with to cause _that_ type of reaction from Lily was Tom, and if Tom now had Harry and everything was consensual (which he believed it was; Tom would _never _force _anything_ upon Harry and Harry alone), then everything would be okay.

Or at least from _his_ standpoint it was. Lily, on the other hand, still needed to be comforted and calmed.

"Calm, Evans," he murmured softly, not quite matching her whispered volume but close enough. "Harry, I believe, is safe and in good hands. He is intelligent, that brat of yours, and the person he was with meant him no harm nor will ever,_ ever_ hold malignant thoughts to him, even in the face of rejection or dark times."

"_You know, then?" _Lily asked in a sharp breath. "_You know who it is?"_

"I do," confirmed Severus, "but I will not divulge the information to you in care for Potter's privacy. Simply know that the man your son is now seeing will be a good, good man to him, and I cannot think of a better match for Potter's first relationship—"_possibly his last_,"—and so, you need not be so frantic, Lily. A talk you must have and so you will, but you need not rush. You have time. Plan a little, think a little, _calm down_. Potter is not going anywhere, nor will his relationship for some time." _I hope_.

But his words seemed like the reassurance that she so desperately needed, so the next time Lily spoke, it was indeed calm and more thoughtful, like she usually was. _"Thank you, Severus," _she said honestly. "_That means a lot, coming from you. I'll… I'll… I'll use your advice._"

They parted on clearer terms and biddings, and as Severus hung up his home phone, he found that his old friend's news had been some sort of cause to relax for him. Harry was still comfortable with Tom Riddle, god knows why, and he was also comfortable and _happy_. And that was enough.

He supposed he could _still_ invite himself over to Lucius', though. Fine wine was always welcome.

* * *

**Hi guys! New chapter for ya'll :). **

**Just so you know (if you are reading this and also following Strings), that Strings has been set on _low priority _due to my preference that The Game and Camaraderie get done first. Also, as to the other fics that I've talked about, yes they're still in the works but I haven't had any sparks of mad inspiration for them yet, so sit there they will still.**

**[ **Potter is not going anywhere, nor will his relationship for some time." _I hope_. **] Did anyone catch that double meaning? ;)**

**Well, you know the drill. Review and if you have a question that needs to be clarified, answered it shall be~ Slight fluff should be in the next chapter, along with a bit more Draco development as a modicum of plot to serve the story, so... yeah. Thanks for all the support; I really appreciate it!**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	23. Quest XX: Relationships

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**I**t wasn't that Harry was still confused over his feelings for Tom. No, it had been two weeks since that afternoon by the lake, and it would be foolish for him to still doubt any affection that passed between them. So, _that_ wasn't the reason behind his… his… Harry didn't want to call it hesitation, but yes. It was what it was.

Harry pitifully wondered when Tom had grown so much patience for him. The man was absolutely _calm_, the epitome of confidence in this new relationship, and he as the younger was a bit (or a lot) intimidated. It wasn't that he didn't know what to do, but rather, _was he allowed to do it_. Tom didn't have any problem grabbing him and holding him close, pressing insistent kisses to his mouth before plunging into something deeper, but the man was _just that type_ to never halt in his stride, so really thinking upon it and doing comparisons would be absurd.

He wanted to be confident. He really did. But where did he stand now? Was he in a position to do so? Harry knew he liked Tom—a _lot_—though he wasn't yet at the stage where he would admit anything more. So where did that leave their relationship off as? It couldn't be friends, right? Because friends didn't kiss each other intimately, friends didn't sit in each others' laps while an arm wrapped about their waist, friends didn't whisper breathily into each others' ears with _intent_ behind the teasing—

If he couldn't bring himself to call them friends, did that mean that—well—they were what, boyfriends? _That_ sounded even more ridiculous. He refused to give the idea any merit at all. But _lovers_ sounded too… experienced; too deep. Perhaps this issue was because of their age gap; Tom under the label of any silly little name of Harry's own generation sounded downright blasphemous.

Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating a bit… but the point was made, right?

Tom sighed, the sound in addition to that of a book being closed snapping the younger out of his daze. Harry hadn't realized that his shifting positions (due to his inner frustrations) had caused him to be so far away from Tom on the obscenely large sofa.

"Harry," beckoned Tom with just a call and a gesture. The latter was hardly needed, but Harry didn't have a doubt in his mind that the man was simply enjoying the power it seemed to give him because the man was odd like that.

Harry wrinkled his nose and gave Tom a look of his own (though Tom wasn't looking at him, he just _knew_ he had seen it from the corner of his eye) before moving back to his original position with his head on his companion's shoulder. Just so they both knew Harry was hardly going to turn meek and docile. No way in hell was he going to be the "girl" in their relationship if there was going to be one.

Though, in retrospect, Harry thought it wouldn't be a far cry to think of himself as the submissive—what with him being all the more carefree than his counterpart. Tom was just a domineering freak like that.

As if sensing his thoughts and wishing to wipe them away, said man made a noise in the back of his throat, wordlessly coaxing Harry to tilt his head up in question.

"You're bothered by something," Tom murmured. "Is it the pest you and Severus have refused to name?"

Harry shrugged. "A little of this, a little of that," he replied vaguely, not wanting to reveal his true thoughts in case of the consequential embarrassment. It wasn't like he was lying, anyways. There was truth in his words.

"_Harry_," Tom stressed without sounding exasperated or actually _stressed_ at all.

"It's nothing," he said firmly.

"It _is_ something."

"It's nothing as long as you don't know what it is."

"So you admit that there's something specific bothering you?"

Harry mentally cursed at the verbal trap he had fallen into. "I don't need to admit anything," he huffed, glaring before he buried his face into Tom's shoulder to hide his tired look. But they knew each other well—almost too well. Tom sighed, raising a hand to lazily run it through Harry's messy locks in a display of affection and comfort.

If only he had the confidence to do that as well, then maybe…

"Take a nap, won't you?" the man commanded, "It's tiring to see you toss and turn. If you refuse to tell me your thoughts, then so be it."

Harry instantly felt bad as he was scolded. Or, well, perhaps it wasn't _justified_ scolding, but it made him feel bad all the same—here Tom was, _worried_ about him, and he had just—

_Oh no. _He was _not_ going to fall for that stupid guilt trip again! Even thinking that, Harry still bit back his retort and snuggled into Tom's shoulder, trying to make himself comfortable as he settled in to obey his companion's demand. Not that he was always going to be so compliant.

He heard Tom's heavy release of breath, close to a sigh but not quite as it was held back behind tight lips, and even through this sign of irritation bordering anger, the hand that gently played with his hair was still lazy and calm, certainly not displaying any negative feelings. To this, Harry began to doze, finding it wasn't very hard to fall asleep when his eyelids were already closed with Tom's warmth suddenly better than any blanket.

When he woke, it was to a much better spread warmth and to a certainly different position. For that, Harry was grateful; the position he had fallen asleep in would've been killer on his neck. Sometime when he had been asleep, Tom must've man-handled him onto his lap, tucking his head into a better spot that leaned on more chest and was close to the neck. Arms were wrapped around him, not too loose but not tight enough to be considered a squeeze.

It was comfortable. Harry wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the world—except, maybe, Tom himself, but that brought in all kinds of complicated thoughts that a sleepy Harry couldn't comprehend past their minor cameo in his mind.

He yawned, giving away his wakefulness to the man holding him.

"Had a good rest?" asked Tom.

"Mm… yeah," muttered Harry before trying to burrow himself deeper into the warmth that seeped out of his companion.

Tom chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest and calming the younger even more than he could ever imagine. "Silly boy," he breathed, probably to himself. "You're going to be the death of me…"

The words snapped Harry out of his dreamy state, causing him to lift his head to try and get a good look at the man who had him in his lap. Sensing his gaze, Tom indulged and peered down at him with questioning blue eyes.

He didn't really know what he was doing (actually, he did, but his brain didn't exactly catch up with his body until a few seconds later), but Harry thought it would probably be fitting. He leaned up, catching Tom's lips with his own, lazily kissing him until he ran out of breath. It had been foolish of him, he realized, to think that he had been the only one affected in this relationship. Harry knew Tom better than that—so why hadn't he been able to see past that calm façade? It made him feel shame, but only for the slightest of seconds as this time, Tom was the one to catch him and pull him into a heated snog.

And with this new view of his own foolishness, Harry found (with some great difficulty; the man he so adored was _distracting!_) that he had been practically blind on another matter. No, perhaps near-sighted would be a better description.

Friends might not kiss each other like they did, and friends probably didn't feel _this way_ towards each other, but friends worried and cared and knew each other well. Like Tom and Harry. So really, there was nothing stopping them from being _friends_ as well as… well, _whatever_ they were, because names and titles didn't really matter. Aside from these new liberties they could now take with each other, nothing really changed.

Nothing at all.

The day after his visit to Tom's, which had been Saturday morning, Harry found himself in Remus' bakery, helping out due to another employee taking a sick day. That was perfectly fine with him—he _liked_ helping Remus, the smells of the bakery calming and his "uncle's" smiles warm. Not to mention, Sunday wasn't all too busy.

The customers were certainly bountiful, and the orders _did_ come in, but the atmosphere was relaxed and no one was rushing around yelling out cakes they were short on or new loaves of bread that needed to be placed in their display. Harry lazily ran the cash register, perfectly at ease in the role as he greeted the patrons and sold them their delights, the sound of another working in the background a constant in his ears.

He felt smug to see many of the customers take a seat in the bakery, enjoying its warmth rather than rushing out the door to someplace else. People liked it here. Remus was probably proud.

So when Draco Malfoy came in, bundled in a coat that was probably worn to make him look inconspicuous, all Harry did was raise a brow. Not that the fellow student _saw_, what with the nervous look he had on his face as he glanced back and forth discreetly.

Was he running from something, or what?

Malfoy made his way up to the cash register, still looking anywhere but in front—thank god there was no line for him, right? Who knew how many people he would bump into—and began to rush out his order.

"Earlier I ordered a pineapple upside down cake," he began, eyes flickering, "I'd like to pick it up now, please."

Harry connected the order to the dessert currently sitting in a nice box in the back. He nodded to himself, replying, "Sure. Just give me a moment to fetch it."

He never knew Malfoy's head could snap that fast until now. The blond's eyes were panicked, staring at him incredulously, as if he should've been miles and miles away from where they were now instead of standing in the bakery's apron, in front of the cash register, did he mention _inside the bakery_?

"H—_Harry_?! Why are you here?!"

"Working," he replied nonchalantly. Figuring that Malfoy's shock would take awhile, he gestured to the other worker behind him to fetch the cake instead.

"You have a job?!"

"Just volunteering, Malfoy." Like he would give up any more information about his private life.

The blond stared at him, his head tilted to the side and his nose slightly scrunched in thought. Then, he blinked, and looked down as a flush began to build in his cheeks.

Since Harry wasn't one to make conversation with any fellow student under his own violation simply to _converse_, the two said nothing as Malfoy's cake was delivered and handed to him. Wordlessly the blond paid, and as he held the box in his two hands, it was at that moment that Harry realized something very important.

"You're blocking the line, Malfoy," he said patiently.

Malfoy snapped out of his reverie. "Oh! Er—" he stepped aside, letting the next customer order and watching as Harry, calm and experienced, grabbed the pastries and put them in a bag, quickly allowing the customer after that to order as well, and so and so forth until the line was gone again.

"Was there something else you needed?" Harry finally asked as his classmate continued to simply stand there.

Malfoy opened his mouth as if to say something, but he never did as he closed it again. Finally, after some time of pause, the blond muttered, "This… this isn't what it looks like, okay?"

Harry blinked. "You mean you _didn't_ order that cake and you _didn't_ pay for it? In that case, please let me take it back—"

"No! Not _that_," vehemently denied Malfoy. "I meant—well—being here… and… look, could you please not tell anyone that I was here?"

The look of exasperation and deadpan would've been much more impressive if the blond was actually looking _up_ to see it. Honestly, who would he tell, and for what reason? Tom would kill Draco, because he would then know who it was that had been slightly disturbing him, Severus wouldn't really care (unless he was given the opportunity to demand a pineapple upside down cake of his own, within subtleties of course), and why the hell would he tell the quartet of friends he had at school?

But Harry, feeling indulgent today and still running off the extra energy from yesterday, decided to play along. "Sure."

Malfoy's head snapped up. "R—really? You'd do that?"

_The better question would be why I'd gossip about your presence in a _popular _bakery to begin with, but we can't all ask the right questions at the right times every minute of the day, can we?_ "…I don't see why I wouldn't."

The blond flushed, ducking his head in either embarrassment or surprise. "I always knew you were a good person, Harry," he murmured under his breath.

"Come again?"

Malfoy coughed. "Er, I said… well… you know. A Malfoy would never walk into a common bakery to buy _desserts_, of all things, so… thanksforprotectingmyreputat ion."

Harry blinked. Once. Twice. Three times before he sighed. "Err—okay?"

"…Father always told me that the chefs at our house are perfectly able to make whatever I ask, but this time it's a bit personal. This isn't for me, you know. It's for… it's for… my mother."

Curious, he tilted his head to the side and asked, "Your mother?"

Malfoy ducked his head shyly. "Yes. She loves the cakes here very much, always eating them on outings with acquaintances… Lately, she's been looking rather distracted, so I thought—"

But the blond paused in the middle of his sentence as he saw Harry smile—a _real, genuine_ smile.

_Perhaps Malfoy isn't so bad after all…_

It took a few seconds before his classmate snapped himself out of his stupor, and then he began to bid an awkward goodbye. With a strange look on his face, Malfoy turned and threw a, "Well then, see you at school tomorrow," over his shoulder. Then he pushed the door open and exited the popular bakery.

Harry shrugged before greeting the next customer that entered. It really wasn't his business to know much about Malfoy, and his curiosity really wasn't at an all time peek either—the affairs of the rich didn't interest him in the least. But, considering that the blond was Severus' godson, didn't that mean his professor was also close with Mrs. Malfoy? Perhaps, out of obligation to his friend, then, Harry decided to at least mention in passing that the lady had been slightly distracted.

It wasn't his place to say, and it was probably nothing, but he was certain Severus would appreciate the thought anyways.

* * *

**So... sorry for the short chapter, but thought you guys would rather something than nothing -shrug-. My chapter plan is screwy now for The Game, so please bear with me for the uncertainty. More of CoS will come soon though, just let me indulge in my fluff for a teensy bit!**

**Thanks to **Ascensation, **because otherwise this chapter probably wouldn't be out right now, lol. If you don't read Camaraderie, I'm looking for a beta for my stories that is also open to discussing ideas and plot points, so hopefully said beta will like TMR-LV/HP and be indifferent to whether it's AU or canon, ****though **Ascensation **is helping me out with that last point at the moment. ****  
**

**On another note: thank you for all of your reviews again :heart:. Makes me so incredibly happy to see near 300 reviews! Haha. I read them all, you know!**

**As for any upcoming stories I have mentioned in the past, they're still shaky and unsure because I'm very indecisive and very lazy, and my writing is very, very strange and incomprehensible after I drink cold medicine (another reason for a beta!). Hope you understand.**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	24. Quest XXI: Part of the Learning Process

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**H**arry wasn't slacking. Not at all. His attention was simply… split.

On the margins of his chemistry notebook, small notes and names were scrawled on the side, completely irrelevant to the class itself but he couldn't stop himself. The ideas just _wouldn't_ stop coming in… and it wasn't like Severus would mind, right?

After all, this was for CoS. He had a valid excuse. They would need to start practicing soon, and what was practice without new strategies and combinations never thought of before? Honestly, as they were now, it was hard to say whether or not they'd make it to the top—their game play, though complex and pulled off smoothly, was harshly narrowed by their one disability.

Severus. Not that the Sage was bad by any means, but there simply were not any plays pulled off with him like there were between Scarred and VolDeMort. They were a three player team, so they should act like one! Leaving all of the co-op moves to the two attackers was at the same time scary as it was weak. There were too many flaws—Harry planned to cover them up with the new tactics that he was currently pulling right out of his ass.

They were risky, devastating if pulled off, and something _no one_ would expect. Harry loved it.

This current one that he was planning out along his paper was a combination that circulated around a Sage's skill "Sacrifice". It was actually available to Bishops as well, and when it had been released, it must've been up there with the over powered skills… but then patches had been made to fix a couple bugs and the spell fell into disuse. It was a Willpower skill, a skill learned by obtaining an item and using it, leveled up by the amount of times used _instead_ of how many points were pumped into it. The community affectionately called them "Book" skills because the icons for the items were traditionally ancient tomes.

Sacrifice was a spell that brought down the target's HP to one, but in turn, gave them a massive attack and defense buff. There was clear synergy with Heart of Will, one of Harry's favorite Berserker skills, and it had in fact been chained often with it, but ever since HoW received the nerf that no longer allowed them to be impervious from damage dealing crowl control, the tactic had fallen off. Chuck some CC at them, wait for HoW to go on cooldown, and it was a free kill.

Or was it? Harry liked to think if they were able to pull this off, people would be more serious about considering the Dark Lord class, if only to combine it with a Berserker.

Since Heart of Will lasted for three minutes (technically only thirty seconds, but with great player dexterity and a _lot_ of help from a Dark Lord's plus Sage's skills that helped in cooldown reduction, refreshing, and the always useful _bug_ on the damn thing that was being kept hush-hush, three minutes was the maximum time if everything was pulled off correctly), that left quite a bit of… flexibility. Because the plan _wasn't_ to Sacrifice Scarred. No, it was to Sacrifice VolDeMort.

Inwardly, Harry cackled as he read over his scribbles. With a Soul Bind active, VolDeMort could _push_ the Sacrifice buff onto _Scarred_, but the Dark Lord would still be forced to take the recoil damage. _However,_ he could just as well steal some of Scarred's health. Why go through all the trouble? Because they could _decide_ how much damage would be taken. Severus was very good at healing, so the amount of time would be miniscule, but they had to prepare for unexpected situations didn't they?

The thing was, VolDeMort would have to be near the front lines… which is why the Soul Bind would _first_ go onto Prince to swap their locations. Once that was done, he would throw it onto Scarred to do the transfer, all the while having Prince to have healed him up. With the Soul Bind on Scarred, he would combine a Pulse Bolt with another skill depending on the situation, allowing him to build up on the passive given by Glory of Pain. Prince, with the location swap meanwhile, would've been able to teleport in and drop a massive slow, hopefully catching one or two players.

Heart of Will came in a bit later, as their Sage would be put on the offensive this time. Retracting the Soul Bind from Scarred and popping it on Prince, VolDeMort would be able to chain his offensive skills with Severus' weakening spells, allowing the Dark Lord to attack from an incredible range. With them both going on the offensive, he would have to play the part of a bit of a battering ram—charging in and soaking up all the damage. If worse came to worse, he would have to use HoW.

_Or_ he could pop it to use Iron Heart and reinforce their Sage's more risky gameplay.

Then again, this strategy could _also_ be combined with several others he had in mind…

The thing was, Severus wasn't exactly _close range_. He was almost close, but far enough to still be considered a ranged attacker. _That_ was key. If he was in the front lines and Soul Binded, not only could the two swap as they please, but he could extend VolDeMort's range in ways that Harry had a hard time to, and not only would they be from a longer distance, but they would also be _stronger_ because of the weakening spells that their Sage was using to attack with.

It was genius. The two main attackers would get massive buffs, though of different nature, and Severus' high health (though moderate defense) would be able to keep him alive as long as he was able to chain weakening spells with his team's attacks.

However, of course this game play had its risks, one of which being that VolDeMort didn't have enough MP to maintain the Soul Bind for long durations, the second being that they would need to have more than just the synergy of the two offensive players… there would need to be co-operation play between the whole team, and not just for a simple move. It would be for _more_. They would have to target the right enemies, choosing when to defend and when to retreat, deal with damage that they would need to roughly estimate with all the buffs on them, _know_ what time to pull out… and most of it would have to be done without vocal commands.

They would have to read each other, and read each other well.

So consumed was Harry by his ideas, he didn't notice that the bell rang until Severus' calm and controlled voice called him to stay after. Once all the students left the classroom, the professor strode up to his desk and turned the notebook around, reading the margins instead of the actual text belonging there. Distracted as he was, Harry had still been able to takes note with a mechanical type of habit that frankly scared most.

"You're going to have to be more specific when you're explaining this," Severus muttered as his eyes devoured the tactical thinking of his student.

Harry's mouth quirked up, surprised but not really of how the man knew _exactly_ what he had been writing. "Do you have a hawk's eye sight, or what?"

Severus raised a brow. "I wished to know what my _star pupil_," he said with no little mockery and amusement, "was so excitedly writing. It was no issue to glance over while I was lecturing."

"We'll start practice this weekend, how's that? I've already managed to book a private room at the internet café."

"…And how exactly are you going to get there? If, true to my assumption, you haven't told—"

"Tom's driving me," assured Harry, casually waving off the concern.

The professor bid him farewell after a bit more discussion, pushing him out the door to his next class with his normal scathing attitude that his students saw. Of course, when he was completely alone in the classroom, Severus sighed and shook his head.

"Now, if only we could find a solution to those thrice damned hackers…" he muttered under his breath, mind automatically wandering to how much profit would be lost if they weren't able to do the run.

Little to his knowledge, Harry was working on it—whether he himself knew it or not.

English class was a pleasure. Reading literature was unlike studying from a history textbook; the prose was beautiful and captured his attention. Harry found if there were any classes that he could firmly put under a "like" category, it would be this. His AP Lit class. His teacher was kind though strict; they did _work_, of course—this was an advanced placement class—but the work was enjoyable. And they didn't just read all day either.

Professor Tonks believed that to understand literature, you also needed to be able to _create_ it as well. Which led to their current project.

"Groups," she called immediately after the bell had rung, and there was a bit shifting until everyone had gotten into their place.

Malfoy slid in next to him, an aristocratic smile on his face. "Harry," he greeted with poorly veiled excitement.

"Hello, Malfoy," Harry mumbled in return.

"Remember, I want _complex_ characters and a _realistic_ setting. The best way to understand an author is to _be one_, no matter how terrible you find yourselves at it," the professor reminded in a light tone, a small grin playing on her lips.

"And we're collaborating on this _why_?" Harry heard another student mutter under his breath behind him.

Professor Tonks heard, of course. "Because half of you are having trouble on understanding what a writer _does_, that's why. For the other half of you… well… considering that I'm a teacher, would it be bad to say I'm giving you a break after a job well done on your midterms?" Her words caused a small group of girls in the front to giggle, and the bright smile she shot at the class was comforting in nature.

"I'll take it!" cried a boy from the back of the room.

"You won't if I hear any more complaints," she replied promptly, and with a wave of her hand, the students returned to the serious atmosphere that was expected of them.

Harry too turned back to the task at hand. He wasn't all too worried—had even discussed it with Tom before when school talk had popped up, so he had a good idea on what the expected result was. When he had asked if the man had any prior writing experience, Tom had adopted an expression of amusement and had, unsurprisingly though rather unexpectedly, replied yes.

"I _did_ take a small dip in fiction," he had continued, "but I find my non-fiction writing is far superior."

When Harry had asked specifically about whatever fictional works Tom had attempted—or done—he had dryly chuckled and told him, with a dark though not discouraging tone, about some time in his mid teens when he had crafted the character of "Voldemort", a man who had sought power and despised weakness. Outside, he had seemed borderline insane, maniacal and closer to a monster than a human… but within, only in the recesses of his thoughts, did he show that he was human as any other person who walked down the street, even if none of them were murderers or sociopaths.

Of course, being the observant person he was (if only when it came to Tom), Harry had inquired if there had been some deeper meaning to the creation of Voldemort. Tom had no reserves in telling him that it was a vague experiment in exploring himself and finding or rooting out flaws, and to some that might not have seemed so morbid, but considering the tales that the man had spun about "Voldemort"…

Harry was only bothered for a second or so before moving on to pleasant surprise that Tom had the trust in him to be so open.

So now, he was perfectly set with having some prior expectations to the whole experience. The only thing was that he was working with _Draco Malfoy_, and he didn't know quite enough to predict the outcome of this project of theirs. Obviously, the blond was no slacker, but that didn't tell you what kind of character or setting would be born from a brainstorming session.

The only thing they both agreed upon last time they had planned in class was that it would be a male.

"Perhaps," Malfoy paused, "Perhaps we should base him off of one of us… I admit that crafting an entirely new person is… a bit of a challenge, for me."

Harry took his words as they were meant to be taken. "I don't have any experience either," he agreed, "so let's. How's you?"

Malfoy blinked. "Err… I was actually wondering about _you_, Harry."

"I'm not very interesting," he waved off, "or complex. Or very deep. Just your average classmate, I suppose."

If the blond had been any less dignified he might've snorted. Instead he stared at him in some sort of vague disbelief until he settled upon shaking his head slowly. "…Alright, but…"

"But?"

"I feel a bit odd, trying to base someone off of myself," the blond admitted quietly after he had leaned close. "It doesn't feel… right."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Then how about this: we'll compromise. _You_ jot down notes about _me_, and _I_ write down observations about _you_. Then we'll mash them together to create a final product, and then all that's left would be the setting."

Malfoy nodded sharply. "Deal."

They gave themselves fifteen minutes. Sometime during that period of time, Professor Tonks had come by to observe them, and after seeming to figure out what they were doing, nodded her approval and moved on to check on everyone else.

Harry found himself concentrating for what was like the first time on an actual _person_. The only other that he had ever focused on so unabashedly and strongly had been… well, _Tom_, and he almost felt _odd_ for doing so to another person, but after he had lost that feeling, he redirected his attention to keenly observing Malfoy.

The blond seemed to be a bit nervous as well, to stare so openly at another, but he gained his confidence and determination and stared right back.

Harry thought back on when he had first met his fellow classmate, how apprehensive he had been, how he had rubbed him the wrong way… but now was different. Some things were the same of course, but…

Blinking, he quickly noted down _spoiled_, and then after some thought, _ignorant _was replaced by _naïve_. _Intelligent_ followed quickly after.

The blond was decent enough company, after one got past the arrogant layer and the immaturity underneath. There was a person under there, deep and hardly one dimensional—no, there were layers and layers and layers, and layers under that. He found himself thinking of Tom, as well, who, though he had just as many layers, seemed all the more complex in each and every one. Malfoy was different. It seemed like once you discovered one, it proved quickly to be predictable and easy to note.

_Aristocratic_ fell in right beside _awkward_. _Observant_ listed after _selfish_, though that was quickly followed up by _good-intentioned_.

And what had that been about, the whole bakery incident?

Harry wrote down _insecure_, thinking back on Malfoy's "favor", but also, to his credit, jotted down _charismatic_, as the blond had definitely had his moments.

For the whole fifteen minutes, he found he could not find fitting descriptions other than one word adjectives. Hopefully Malfoy would not take offense to some listed. They wordlessly traded notes, and Harry almost greedily drank in what his classmate had wrote. It wasn't every day that you were told what one thought of you, after all.

Surprisingly, Malfoy's list was filled up with single word descriptions as well. _Intelligent_ had him raising a brow, but later furrowing it in some type of understanding. Harry didn't consider himself on the genius level of Tom or Severus, but he supposed that was a given—so _intelligent_ would probably be fitting as an outsider's opinion. _Shy_ had been crossed out for _quiet_, and at this, he smiled.

It was true. He had often been mistaken throughout high school for being shy, instead of just refusing to speak very much.

_Kind_ had him biting his lip. Was he nice? Really? _Standoffish_ wasn't unexpected at all. _Patient_ wasn't really something he would list himself…

_Responsible._

_Confident._

_Diligent._

_Respectable._

_Indulgent._

The list went on. Harry found himself flushing under some of the praise. It made him feel worse about writing such arguable things on his own paper. When he got to the end, he was surprised to find that, unlike his own, Malfoy had included a _physical characteristics_ section.

_Handsome_ was crossed out for _pretty_. What the hell? Should he be taking some type of offense, or should he be feeling flattered?

_Messy hair_. That was pretty obvious—Potter family looks, of course.

_Pale_ was agreeable. Harry _knew_ he wasn't exactly sun-kissed, though he was nowhere as near as pale as Tom. He also grudgingly agreed with _thin_. It was from his mother, he swore!

The last item was _beautiful eyes_, which made him flush and put down the paper with a bit more force than needed. He found Malfoy staring at him nervously, licking his lips in an attempt to calm himself.

Harry cleared his throat and sent him some sort of lopsided smile. "I think we can work with this. You?"

Malfoy nodded, more confidently this time. "Yes," he agreed softly.

* * *

**No _real_ CoS, but we are getting a bit more information and a bit more hints on what's to come. So, the big plan: make amazing plays _with_ their third team member. Not bad, not bad at all, Harry. Haha.**

**I'm surprised no one wanted a bit more Draco :(. Is he not getting any love from ya'll? Well too bad, I'm forcing him upon you now! xD. Note: I will not answer any questions on whether or not Draco wants to pursue a relationship (or has more than platonic feelings for) with Harry. _That_ can be left to your own imaginations.**

**Still looking for that beta; I know I got a few reviews offering but I'm definitely looking for a more confident reply (not that I'm not considering those who have offered; I am!) and for a beta that will beta for me because she or he _wants_ to improve my writing and knows that there are things that he or she can do to help. Bouncing off ideas with me would be a bit more secondary (though necessary), as a lot of people have offered for that too, not to mention **Abracadoofus**, formally** Ascensation** is already helping me with that as well :)**

**If I do ask you to be my beta (and I'll beg, really), then most likely it'll be awhile before I send you something to read over, but no doubt your services will be needed, haha.**

**BTW: if you want to see something happen in-game, for example dungeon runs or merchanting or stuff like that, feel free to request and get a little specific too! If you want more CoS, demand your reader rights! xD**

**And god, 3 reviews away from 300?! Really guys?! Ahhh, you're all so awesome :heart:! Sorry for the long author's note (and lack of any real TMR/HP in this chapter), but hopefully the next will bring something more... beefy, other than just some fun stuff for the fans and character development. Haha.**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	25. Quest XXII: Still There, Always There

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

**T**he day Harry met Lucius Malfoy was a day like any other—except not really. He had come to the Malfoy's _manor_ to work on the project he had with Draco Malfoy, which had expanded into a presentation type of thing, and they needed to smooth over details and prepare things that they simply didn't have time for during the class period.

Harry _thought_ about bringing his blond classmate to his own house, seeing as it was closer, not to mention less awkward for him (who lives in a _manor?!_), but Draco had just looked so _excited_ to have him come over, so Harry really, really couldn't say no.

Lucius Malfoy was, undoubtedly, a cold type of businessman. He was nothing but polite to Harry, if not slightly curious in general on how he met with his son and if they were "getting along". If this was the father, supposedly aloof, toward the subject of his son, Harry _really_ didn't want to see what Narcissa Malfoy was like. And he didn't—she was apparently on an outing with her friends.

Other than that, the visit had gone fine. They had gotten their planned work done, no problems had aroused, and he had even learned some more things about Draco that he thought he would never bother to. His classmate could now firmly be considered a "friend", if that really meant anything. Harry found him to be slightly stunted social-wise, awkward as he knew when it came to associating with people _outside_ the range of business and childhood acquaintances.

But that was okay, because Harry wasn't really all too great in that area anyways. It allowed him to sympathize, if only on the barest of levels, and that was enough to form some type of camaraderie between them. They both weren't all too great at making friends, or finding a balance with normalcy (Harry with his boisterous family and focus on studying, Draco with his… well, status), but they did what they could and tried if they were forced to do what they couldn't, and that understanding served well enough as a base for their friendship.

Though, it wasn't like Harry thought Draco was an angel all of a sudden. Oh, he _knew_ the boy could be a right prat if he wanted to be and a whinny git in other situations as well, but everyone had their flaws, and Harry had enough patience to indulge when it was just on a small scale and enough self-confidence to draw the line when it wasn't. After all, he _did_ have Sirius Black to deal with at home. It wasn't like he wasn't used to immature behavior.

But it was strange. Harry _knew_ he had heard the name Lucius Malfoy from somewhere, from some_one_ even, and it was probably a bit more than a passing mention because it didn't just register as a familiar word, but _more_.

Whatever it was, Harry decided to just let it go. There was no point in chasing after something he knew to be a lost cause, or a dead end. He would find out if it was important, and that was that.

The bell to end his last class rang, and he sighed in both relief and exhaustion. Today, _both_ of his parents were stuck at work, his father on a serious case and his mother on overdrive as multiple high-priority patients came in. Remus couldn't pick him up either, he had left a day ago to visit an old acquaintance in a nearby city. Sirius was, of course, working with James, so…

The news that he was walking home wasn't any type of surprise, though it was unusual. He didn't exactly live _close_ to the school, but it was close enough to be considered a walking distance, so Harry really didn't have any cause to complain. Today though, he simply wasn't in the mood to be taking a stroll, so he'd probably take the bus and save himself some time.

The school bus didn't run through his neighborhood, so he'd have to take a public. The route was one he had traversed before, so that certainly wasn't a problem—it was just exhaustion. Harry felt tired, felt dragged down by the day that had seemed to go on forever, and coming home to collapse on a nice, soft bed until dinner time sounded like an excellent idea. But first, he'd have to get there.

Sighing, he walked out of the school building and steeled himself for the assault that would soon come—Draco coming up from behind at a brisk pace, with Harry's own usual group of friends along with. The blond greeted him cheerfully, linking their arms as if they were close friends and chirping out a greeting in such a way that it _still_ sounded like it came from someone of his family status.

_Honestly…_

At least it was good to know that on shitty days, some things still never changed.

* * *

"You seem to be in a rush, Tom," Lucius Malfoy noted as they both stood from their seats in his office. They had just been discussing a possible new business investment in transferring several skilled employees to Vietnam, which would emphasize a bigger focus on the cheap labor there to make the branch prosper, but both had also agreed to cut the meeting short.

The head Malfoy was curious as to why. If anything, Tom Riddle _never_ seemed to be in a hurry to _anywhere_; he was always calm, relaxed, solid and confident. That had been one of the reasons why, though he was young, Lucius had agreed to work with him as equals, because he had seen his attitude and personality and potential.

Even now, Lucius could only tell that he wanted to be somewhere else by the tiny little quirks that were barely noticeable. But he had known Tom for a very long time—six years, perhaps?—and very little got past Malfoys anyways.

"Hnn…" the younger of the two murmured. "Yes, I suppose. It should be about time now that he's getting out…"

Lucius raised a brow. "Pardon?"

"Nothing," Tom waved off. "I'm simply going to go pick someone up… a bit of a surprise, I suppose."

"What a coincidence," the blond mused. "I'm off to pick up my son as well. Our chauffeur is sick today."

This made Tom pause. "…Isn't your son—Draco, correct?—at boarding school?"

"No. He transferred out."

A feeling of unease crept up his chest from his stomach. "…To where, may I ask?"

Lucius blinked, surprised, but told him where anyways in his usual mild tone.

He was even more startled when Tom sighed and shook his head as if he were stuck in indecision between being greatly amused and slightly frustrated. "Alas, old friend, our destinations are the same."

"Oh? Then who are _you_ meeting?"

Tom chuckled. "I believe it's your son's new… acquaintance. Harry Potter, I mean."

Lucius found himself chuckling at the surrealism as well. "A small world," he noted.

"Quite."

They both had _no_ idea how small it really was.

Harry was rather sure he was hallucinating when he saw Tom and _Lucius Malfoy_ standing at the school gate. He could've also swore Draco had tightened his grip on his arm, but considering that the blond was looking in the same direction he was, Harry preferred to ignore the action, seeing as that would be proof that he wasn't just seeing things.

Because, in the end, there was no _fucking way_ Tom was at his school. Just—no. It seemed wrong, and out of place, and it forced him to look at their large age gap in broad day light. Not that he really cared as if it mattered—it was just… uncomfortable to think about.

To his side, Harry vaguely heard Ronald mutter something about "stinking rich blonds" and "coming here to grace the poorer folks' presence" or the like. His girlfriend elbowed him in the ribs before he could get too far with _that_ train of thought.

"Well then, Harry!" Luna exclaimed suddenly. "We'll be seeing you tomorrow, then! Got things to do, you know? Don't we, Neville? Hermione? Ron?"

"What?" chorused the aforementioned three.

"…Luna?"

She smiled mysteriously. "Go on," she motioned, surprising Harry as he had hardly noticed that he had stopped walking. "See you tomorrow." And with that parting message, she managed to haul his friends, in exclusion of Draco, off to… elsewhere.

And then _Harry_ was being dragged forward… by the blond that still clung to his arm, of course.

"Father!" Draco called, voice not a shout as he still upheld perfect decorum in public, but the excitement in his tone could easily be picked out by those who knew him. Which was just Harry here, probably. "You've met Harry—Harry, you've met my father—oh, Mr. Riddle! Afternoon—"

Harry's train of thought came to a complete halt at that last part. He blinked curiously at Draco, who noticed his gaze rather quickly. "Wait, you know Tom?"

"Tom?" Draco sputtered incredulously, acting like his friend had just said something dastardly and was in need of correction. "Well, I mean, of course I know Mr. Riddle. He and father are business associates."

Harry's headache, which had at first just been a quiet, almost unnoticeable presence in the back of his mind, decided to make itself known now.

Thankfully, at about now Tom finally decided to cut in and save him from a lot of mental pain. He smiled, rather tightly, and in a dangerously chatty tone, said, "Lucius, could you _please_ tell your _son_ to release Harry?" _Or not._

Lucius didn't even have to ask. Immediately after the words had left Tom's mouth, Draco had released Harry's arm with a rapid, drop-everything sort of attitude, as if it were now burning him, which then allowed the latter to sigh in relief. Harry hadn't noticed that his blood circulation had been being cut off in that arm until he felt a sudden rush in his veins.

"Right, well, erm, it was good to see you again, Mr. Malfoy," he said somewhat awkwardly. Beside him, Draco quickly muttered his farewells and left, even though his father had quirked an eyebrow as if expecting an explanation for Harry's connection to Tom. It was almost like a mouse trying to bypass a snake, just by keeping its head down and going about its own way.

But by the look that was on Tom's face, _that_ strategy probably wouldn't work.

"What are you doing here," Harry half-asked, his tone caught between a question and a statement, decidedly serving as a distraction before the man got too caught up in… whatever the thoughts he had just been having, because Harry certainly didn't want to know.

"Why, did you not want to see me, _Harry?_" purred Tom, a more relaxed, playful expression making itself known.

He scowled. "Don't ask sounding so butthurt. I'm sure you've _at least_ realized that, in general, time spent around you should only be had in moderation, otherwise they'd likely go mad."

"Brat," Tom murmured affectionately, tapping Harry's forehead as he had recently became prone to do. "You're probably a masochist, then."

Harry grimaced. He really, _really_ did not want to banter with his—his—his _whatever he should be calling Tom now_ in front of his school, where everyone could see and hear them, because more than likely tomorrow he would have to go through—

"I'm here to drive you home. You said you had to walk home today, didn't you?"

"Ah," Harry blinked, "I was actually just going to take the bus. Not in the mood for walking, today."

Tom hummed. "So all the more reason to come with me."

"Whatever," Harry mock-sighed, acting very put upon. "If you _really_ insist, I suppose I can indulge you."

"_I'm sure you can_…"

That last part caused him to choke, and it was a good thing that Tom tugged him towards the direction of his car, away from the school's teenage population, because Harry would bet every dime he had to his name that right now, if anyone saw, his face would be flaming red, a flush more suitable on a school girl with a crush in _his _semi-miffed opinion.

"Thanks," he mumbled once he was within the safety of Tom's car, the door having been just closed and all the windows already rolled up.

"Hnn…"

Harry watched as the scenery passed by as it usually did, the colors blurring as their speed increased and separating when they stopped at a traffic light. It was at one particularly long stop when he felt Tom take his hand in his own, raising it to brush against his lips lightly. He turned to look at his companion, who was also watching him in return with a curious look in his eyes.

"Tom?"

Tom paused. "Perhaps it is foolish of me to ask, all things in considered, and perhaps, in actuality, it has been foolish of me to _not_ ask as of yet, but I do wonder, Harry… is everything… alright… in school?"

They both knew that he wasn't talking about academics.

Harry smiled, if not a bit tiredly. "Yeah. It's fine. It's weird, actually… School takes up a big part of my day, but past homework and how it affects what I do at home, I can't say I remember much of it. Everything just becomes one big blur, and I can't even recall what I ate for lunch yesterday… if I even ate… nor what lessons we're doing, or if there was a quiz recently, or anything like that. It's just… all meshed up together."

Tom hummed understandingly. "Then what _do_ you remember of the rest of your day?"

"Honestly? My time with you and Sev. There used to be a balance with that, you know—it's not like I've _always_ not remembered what happened during the day. For some reason though, that balance has been tipped, and now I'm wondering if my priorities are all right too."

"This is your last year, though. You can't say it's the same," Tom pointed out.

"I guess so… but still, it feels like so much is going on even though everything hasn't happened yet, and school is practically the least of my worries, despite the fact that it _shouldn't_ be—"

"You'll do fine, I'm sure," he waved Harry's hidden concern off, beginning to drive again as the light turned green. At some point they had both linked their fingers together loosely, almost like a mockery of their usual embraces. Maybe it was strange, but they really didn't hold hands too often—their physical contact came in other ways that were much closer.

"Maybe," Harry muttered. "I'm not sure if doing 'fine' is okay, though."

"It's not like your grades are slipping—"Tom paused. "Are you worried?"

It was then that the wide gap between their age and consequently life experience was the clearest it had ever been. Harry forced down a grimace, not wanting such things to disturb him as much as they were now, but that was impossible. Tom was Tom and he was himself, and the differences between them were included in that too.

"Yes," he admitted. "I don't know what I want for my future. There isn't anything I particularly like or dislike, past hobbies, and I guess I'm not absolutely _horrible_ at anything either… not to mention, I'm not all too interested in following my mother _or_ father's footsteps."

"It's fine if you take your time," Tom said after a long period of silence. "Everyone is more than likely always telling you to hurry, correct? Perhaps that _is_ more advantageous, I'd never disagree in that aspect, but passiveness has its own rewards. If you actively act now, forcing something to occur, then you might not get the chance you'd possibly get later if you had simply waited. It's luck and chance you have to play off of, imp, and if the coin falls on the other side, then that's that."

"…I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

"In your case, I'd say _that_ would be too vague of a statement. You aren't an idiot for trying to plan out your future to provide you with the most prosperous life you can get, but one might also say you _are_ a fool for thinking too hard on it when it's clear you're not making any progress. Take your pick of whichever you mean. However, simply theorizing and pondering on the matter from a spectator's point of view won't get you anywhere, so in reality, it doesn't matter if you're the biggest moron on earth, but only in reference to the aforementioned situations, of course."

Harry was extremely glad that Tom was never afraid to be blunt, intelligent, and helpful all at the same time. "…In that case, can I do _anything? _Or would that be detrimental to the 'passive' option?"

"Well," replied Tom, "if you want to have all the options you can get until the very last possible second, there _is_ the actively passive route, which also can be considered as passively aggressive, though the former label would be more… appropriate here. You could try to do as much as you can do without making any binding promises or definitions, but, as you can see, there would be a clear downside to this as well."

"Like trying to walk in the middle of a forked road, right?" Harry sighed. "It's stupid, because you'd end up walking off the road, and by the time you want to get back _on_…"

"Exactly," Tom nodded. "There would be no road left to return to, as both sides had already branched off so far that they are no longer visible to the eye."

"And if, say, I wanted to go to one side earlier, it'd take even _more_ time to get to that particular side, because I wouldn't be walking _forward_, I'd be moving to the side," he concluded. "Great. Feels like I'm doomed."

"You aren't, not exactly," chided Tom. "It's true that you have to make your own choice, considering that it's your own life and more than not people would think that you'd actually want some moderation of _control_ over it, but it's not wrong to look around you and observe either. They may not be _you_, but they _are_ people, and that's close enough to _you_ to serve as some sort of sample."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Probably obvious that it wouldn't, not for you," his companion admitted. "You're going to go through a lot of trial and error."

Harry glanced thoughtfully at the driver's seat. "Tom, what about you? What'd you do?"

Tom paused. "I'm not the best example for you," he said slowly. "I don't particularly love my job, nor dream of ridding it, nor loathe the fact that I don't like or dislike my job. Basically, I do what I do because I succeed at it, not because of any real interest on my part. It wouldn't be the 'dream' example that is your father's or mother's."

"But it's _something_, right? How'd you come to _that_ conclusion? That end point?"

"I'm much like you," Tom replied quietly. "I suppose I'm not _horrid_ at anything, besides cooking but that's somewhat irrelevant. I merely took the job that I could at a time, perhaps on a whim perhaps because I knew that I could elevate quickly and easily, I can't quite remember. I was passive until there was a slim opportunity—I didn't wait and wait until there was one flashing on a giant billboard in lights and colors and so obvious any ignoramus could see it. But, despite the fact that we are similar in one aspect, does not mean I recommend you do what I did."

"…Why's that?"

Tom smiled wryly. "I can't really see it. You would deserve better, really. You deserve to enjoy what you do for a living, not because you're simply another person that I don't want to befall my fate—rather, my fate has actually been quite splendid, all things considered—but because you're _you_. It doesn't suit you. You'd be better off doing what you love, whether you knew you loved it before you began or only realized it after you've started.

He paused for a second as the car slowed at another traffic light before continuing. "It's alright to try things out, Harry. Perhaps if you were another person, it wouldn't be, but you have the resources to do so, monetary _and_ psychologically, and I don't doubt for a second that, if you were really in a pinch, you could find something temporary to do long enough and well enough that you could force your way to a better conclusion."

Harry shook his head and chuckled tiredly. "Sometimes you really piss me off for never saying what I want to hear, even though you know what it is."

"That'd be too easy," Tom replied without missing a beat. "And think of it this way—perhaps you have to go through something, something temporary, something average, something disgustingly mediocre and boring to get to wherever you want to get to. That's just how it is. You can't always expect a straight path."

"I'd love one, though," he mumbled as his eyes fluttered shut. The way Tom drove was, naturally, not always how an outstanding citizen drove, but it was smooth and though sometimes he could tell when he was speeding, or if he took a sharp turn, it never made him feel the need to brace himself or flinch. Harry appreciated the lull.

"Wouldn't we all," Tom chuckled.

"But that isn't how it is."

"Yes."

They were silent for the rest of the way, and only when the car stopped in front of his home did Harry open his eyes and bid goodbye. He was stopped from exiting the vehicle when Tom gripped his wrist lightly.

"There are things you must do on your own, and there are things you most definitely require assistance with," Tom murmured. "Either way, you may always ask for help from me, Harry. Don't assume you can't cheat in life—many do, and many get away with it. Sometimes it's right, sometimes it's wrong, but you know well enough by now I don't care about any of that. Not really."

Harry smiled. "I know. And thanks." He leaned over, more relaxed now, and received a kiss before he left.

Things would work themselves out. He just had to play the waiting game, and perhaps cheat… a little.

* * *

**Hi. Sorry for disappearing on ya'll for so long. I've actually been on Ao3, and soon I'll have a new TMR/HP story out for you guys over here. If you're impatient, you can check me out over there, under the same name, and catch all of the daily updates. It'll be a drabble series, around 200 in length, with a sequel in the works currently at 30+ drabbles.**

**Well, enough about that. On to my notes on the chapter! Here we get Draco, we get Tom, and we get Harry. All very good things. Towards the end, with Tom's conversation with Harry, can I guess that some of you were upset that Tom wasn't outwardly jealous? :p. I can't be too obvious all the time, you know. **

**Just making sure we all remember that Harry is a student and Tom is around ten years his senior. And that even though they're -dating?-, they're still friends first and foremost, and they can care about each other platonically at the same time as intimately if they want to! So there. Ha. Plus, testing is coming up for me, and I can't help but look around and see that Harry's dilemma is very natural, even if one has already signed up and applied to a college of their choice, because switching majors is not unheard of! **

**Thanks for all your reviews (300?!), and I'll keep my writing coming, even if it's more behind the scenes where you can't see it ;).**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**

**P.S. Edit: Forgot to mention. About the beta, which I was and am looking for, it'd help a lot if my PMs were answered :|. Thanks. I'll be flipping through all of the volunteers again though, now that my drabble spree has died down a teensy bit.**


	26. Quest XXIII: The Void

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

* * *

The effort to rent out a private room for a couple hours in a popular internet café took time, planning, good use of connections, and Harry's personal trump card: the liberal mention of Slytherin's top clan, Serpentine. Of course, like any good person aspiring to hide connections between their internet and real life identities, he covered his tracks fairly well. Or, perhaps that was slightly misleading—he hadn't left any "tracks" in the first place, after all.

Well, whatever. What was done was done, and stepping into the room that he and his team would practice in for the next upcoming weekends for a few hours per a day was both relieving and exciting—the former, because he had _finally_ gotten a good room, and the latter because this just showed how serious they would be this time around… how they were going to make it, _together_.

It certainly wasn't anything as fancy as a game house, but it served their needs quite nicely. He had requested three computers in an average sized room, and that was what he had gotten. The desktops were in good condition as well—which was expected—and were probably the most dependable they could find for the price.

Either way, Harry was satisfied, and it showed on his face.

"Severus will be here in a few minutes," Tom said as he closed the door.

"That's good. I already have some theories I want to discuss," he answered without turning around. His bag was set next to the computer he claimed. Harry rummaged through it, tugging out three USBs and then set about turning on all of the desktops.

Tom hummed agreeably. "I also have some strategies to mention. Since the tournament is coming up, there has been quite a bit of activity on the PvP scene. We need to be kept up to date on that, as well as find counters for the newest discoveries."

"We could use a combination of things, then. I heard on the Taiwanese servers that—"

Harry yelped, having turned around to see Tom very, _very_ close to him. The latter chuckled, amused with the reaction.

"The Australian server had a tournament recently as well. It would be prudent to take a glance at that and note any unusual plays that stand out."

"Right," he breathed. "I don't think we have to worry about the NA servers since they're—"

Harry was promptly cut off as lips began to meld with his own, and he felt himself physically pushed back onto the edge of the table. It was his own initiative to lift himself slightly, using his hands to boost him up to sit more comfortably as Tom devoured his mouth.

Even if they spoke to each other on weekdays, they _still_ only saw each other on weekends. It just wasn't enough, considering their new relationship status—Harry wanted more and more of Tom and he bet the man wanted the exact same thing.

It didn't help that today was their first time seeing in each other in three days, since Tom had picked him up that one time.

"But we can't be too flippant," Tom murmured against his lips as they broke for air. "If we tunnel vision on _only_ the Asian servers—"

This time Harry was the one who cut him off. They quieted again, too consumed in each other to notice the door open several minutes later.

It was only when Severus spoke did they notice and break. "Should I rent you two a hotel room instead?"

The sarcastic question made Harry flush bright red. Tom made it even worse with his reply. "That would be wonderful, but I'm afraid it would be terribly rude to cancel our scheduled meeting just so I can enjoy my delicious imp."

"Oh, don't mind me," Severus drawled. "As long as I receive compensation, I don't really care."

Harry made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, burying his face into Tom's clothed shoulder to hide his embarrassment. Honestly, to be _caught_ in _this_ position…

Chuckling darkly, Tom moved away, letting Harry slide down from the table since he had been standing between his legs. He affectionately patted his cheek. "Alright, I'll stop teasing now, imp."

Harry huffed, but cleared his throat anyways and began. "Okay, here's the plan…"

* * *

Despite the fact that they had already spent the day time testing out new strategies and the entirely new style of play that Harry had theorized, that didn't mean that DH didn't see each other again later that night. They all had agreed earlier though that their nightly sessions would be cut short on weekends, simply because of practical reasons.

"Hey, have you guys been on the forums recently?" Harry asked as he idly scrolled down a web page.

"Have you found something on the D.C. problem?" Severus inquired instead of answering.

"No, I'm still working on that—Vigilante hasn't replied yet—but apparently there's been a leak."

"Of?" Tom prodded, somewhat interested.

"A new map that we're going to be getting after the Regionals," Harry replied, and they all saw (and heard) him type before he suddenly said, "here. Check that out—it's the thread." A small bell notification sounded as the two other members received a link.

"Looks like another cave to me."

"If you look closer, it has the four faction symbols on the walls, and empty pedestals underneath them. What do you think that means?"

"There's a trap door in the middle," Tom murmured. "Look."

"People are saying that we might finally be getting closer to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry commented as he scrolled down and skimmed the replies. "And that this might be the last underground room in the Ancient Runes dungeon before we find it."

"It fits the lore," noted Severus. "A cave, obviously. Implications that the last descendents stand guard, even in death. The trap door would lead underground, which is where legend foretells it lies. And if this is a new map for the AR dungeon, which has been heavily (if not definitely) alluded to be the dungeon that eventually will lead to the Chamber, then the rumors could very well be right."

"Mmm… now I'm excited," Harry muttered as he continued to read the comments. "It's been awhile since we've gotten a new section of Ancient Runes released. Then again, I don't want to go through all those floors again…"

The Ancient Runes dungeon was the only dungeon of its kind in CoS to be announced _ongoing_. The story line of the game revolved around its existence, and, as one ventured further, deeper, _lower_ into the progressively harder depths, special mini bosses and requirements would appear to pass onto the next floor. However, if the requirements were filled, then players didn't have to do them again when they came back. Mini bosses still re-spawned though, and specific levels were known for good drops and EXP through them. Quite a bit of new players used the earlier levels as a way to gain some profit, since they were so easy and the monsters were weak.

The dungeon itself was accessible on the surface, through stone ruins that had strange inscriptions detailed all over them—thus the name—and to actually _enter_, there was a stone stairway in the middle of the area leading down. Currently, there were seventy-five floors available, with shortcuts in between to reach certain levels quicker if one had already cleared all the requirements.

And, though it was quite bothersome going through all of those levels even _with_ the addition of secret passageways, Harry was exaggerating the tediousness. Well, at least for DH… other groups probably took a _lot_ longer, seeing as they didn't have the rapid map-traveling abilities that the trio had.

Both Prince and VolDeMort had Teleport, which allowed them to travel a short distance forward—standard for a mage. However, the former, as a sage, had a movement speed buff for _all of them_, decreasing their time.

The thing was, a berserker clearly did not have Teleport, which meant Scarred would otherwise lag behind. _Thankfully_, he had a less powerful single movement buff for himself, which gave him _some_ type of concession. Of course, spamming Teleport would still put the other two a ways ahead of him, which is why a long time ago he and VolDeMort had figured out the perfect way to get around a map.

The idea was that the dark lord would pull him forward with a maximum ranged Aura Bind, never halting as he continued to Teleport forward as well as repeating the process to pull his berserker until they got to their destination. It certainly wasn't as easy as it sounded—measuring the distance the maximum range would be at while the two points in question were constantly moving was… difficult, to say the least—not to mention repeating that _over and over _in quick periods—but a boatload of experience had refined the technique to the point of perfection.

If VolDeMort ever ran out of mana, which was undoubtedly going to happen as he would be spamming two spells for a long period of time, he would simply let his berserker pull a decently sized mob and turn around and shoot some AoE spell that would kill them all, which would activate his Mana Drain passive and allow him to continuously spam his spells _yet again_ without using potions. Then, rinse and repeat.

Unless it was clear that you could execute everything perfectly, it would probably be considered an inefficient method. Using up all that mana on traveling? Taking time in case you miss, forcing you to turn around?

Yeah. Definitely not fun to learn how to do either. But they had managed to reach that point where Tom never missed his Aura Binds, Harry learned to watch his dark lord's mana and pull mobs at precisely the right time and place, and Severus would always make sure he was in range to give them both movement speed buffs when the duration was about to expire. All-and-all, they moved across the map like a blur, and if they _truly_ wanted to go to extreme measures, then slipping on all of their movement speed gear as well could never be considered overkill.

Harry imagined if he wasn't already so used to the strange sight they made on his screen, he'd be either incredibly confused about what was going on, or amused to the highest casual degree.

"The price for clean Blood Magic Gauntlets just shot up fifteen million," announced Severus.

The berserker immediately perked up. "_I_ like the sound of that. Do _you_ like the sound of that, Tom?"

"I do," the dark lord murmured. "We could use the funding to buy more clean Savage Blades to enchant—"

"And sell them when the price inevitably rises again." Their sage smirked.

Harry sighed. "Don't you just love the fact that Slytherin practically owns the clean weapons' market?"

"Quite. Just to clarify, we _are_ going to hunt for those gauntlets now, aren't we?" inquired Severus impatiently. "I don't want this opportunity to pass. They could drop twenty million next week."

"Might as well. They're not difficult to obtain—rather, tedious is more the like. Are you up for some dungeon runs, imp?"

"I should be asking you that, Tom," Harry shot back playfully. "_You'll_ be doing most of the work."

"I could carry you in my sleep."

"Good, because—"

Severus sighed, if only because it was an ingrained habit now that he couldn't seem to get rid of. "Are you two going to flirt, or are we going to go?" he demanded.

The sage did not think it was a good sign as he was met with two odd looks.

"…We're waiting on you, Sev…?"

_Oh. Well. This was an awkward situation…_

"What floor are the Blood Cats on, again?" Severus asked, trying to ignore his mistake. Blood Cats were nasty creatures, who looked more like jaguars, only their markings were a deep red shade and they had elongated fangs, which of course released a venomous toxin that _coincidentally_ looked like blood. They were only level 105, which, if one took in account DH's level average, wasn't too bad—though they were definitely on the _annoying_ section of the monster list.

Not only venomous, but hoisting high agility and a high damage-over-time rate, the only saving grace was that they didn't have much HP or defenses compared to other monsters around the same level. Luckily, with all of the crowd control spells that DH had in their arsenal, such as VolDeMort's snares and Prince's dramatic slows, combined with Scarred's knockups, catching them was relatively easy. The irritating part only came in when the mob was too big.

"They're on floor 68 I believe," Harry answered.

"Then shall I look up a guide for The Void?" asked Severus without pausing in his journey to get to the dungeon's location.

"I think I still have directions from last time—ah! Here we go!" the youngest of the three pulled out a note card from somewhere on his desk, and the small scribbles of directions and numbers could be vaguely seen. "Yep—got all the steps right here."

"Fair enough. Then, shall we proceed?"

They headed off after changing into their movement speed gear. Blood Cats hurt, yes, but only through damage-over-time, and Prince's cure spells could solve most of that. Their speed ensured that even if they attracted the aggro of surrounding monsters, which they certainly did, they were moving too fast for them to catch up anyways. And that served just as well…

Floor three was their first stop. Taking a detour—instead of going straight to the entrance to floor four—the team headed to a dead-end section of the maze. There they instinctively checked a nearby broken pot to get a key, and "used" said key on the keyhole in the wall. It clicked, and the stone fell in as the darkness of a secret passage was revealed. This was the third floor's entrance to The Void.

The Void was, as its name implied, a place where darkness ruled. The only thing visible was the player character and the surrounding players, otherwise the blackness included the unseen ground and the imaginary ceiling. To get "out" of The Void, one either had to take a misstep, which would send them to the beginning of whatever floor they had entered from, or continue on in the right set of steps to fall through another "wall" that led to another floor. This was the only shortcut to get through the Ancient Runes dungeon.

The first entrance to The Void was on floor three, which, if all the steps were performed correctly, led to floor 17. The next entrance would be on floor 23, which exited at floor 37, and the third one after that would be floor 43, leading to floor 57, so on and so forth. As one continued to progress further down into the depths of the dungeon, The Void's directions grew in complexity and length.

Floor three was easy—two steps left, one step forward, and one step right. These had to be followed in the right order, otherwise the player would "fall through" and end up back at the beginning of level three.

Scarred led. Since it was possible to see other players, all his teammates had to do was play follow the leader. For their sake though, he read the directions aloud, in case they had not seen what he had done.

Most players memorized the early levels, just because they repeated it so often. However, since it grew in difficultly as the levels went on, they often had to use the internet and get on the CoS wiki page to get the instructions for the later floors. Harry thought this was a waste of time, and usually had some type of note card or page of paper to read off of instead of having to ALT+Tab and minimize the game all the time.

This continued until they reached floor 63—floor 57 had been five steps forward, one step right, three steps left, two steps backward, seven steps forward, one step back, one step left, two steps right, one step left, three steps forward, and one more to the left and then right—in which they simply bypassed The Void's entrance and traveled directly to floor 64, all the way until 68. This was near the end of the dungeon already, where the monsters were not for the casual monster count gain.

Since it took so long to travel down here, the map was generally sparse of people, or at least one could find an empty channel to switch to. The only reason someone would be down here would be if they had yet to reach floor 75 and were in the process of clearing the requirements, _or_ they were_ desperately_ hunting for items, as the drops were decent enough… though unless there was a good chance for merchanting, the walk usually wasn't worth it.

"So," Harry said as they watched the prowling creatures before them, "Blood Cats."

"Would you like to do the honors of pulling a _small_ mob?" the sage snipped.

"Not really," he replied. "Tom?"

"If I must," the dark lord sighed. He knew it was only reasonable, considering the fact that the spawn capacity was full and sending in a melee to pull a mob could be… detrimental.

A quick cast of Crowning Fire at a particular Blood Cat brought four to contend with, and the berserker quickly fell into a Tumble Dive as they neared and pulled away from the main mob. He managed to throw all of them up into the air, and followed up with an Ultimate Reckoning. Their sage cast an AoE poison simultaneously, and a few ticks as the beasts were airborne gave them the kills.

"Nothing interesting," commented Harry as he quickly shifted through their loot. "Next?"

The process repeated.

By the time they had managed to haul in seven(!) sets of Blood Magic Gauntlets, which all but one had a decent or better roll of stats, Scarred had finished off most of the mana potions he had brought with him and a few HP pots, though those were obviously used less considering his sage did an excellent job at keeping him at a bearable health level.

"Your ridiculous luck is beyond useful," Severus muttered. They could see him punching numbers into a calculator as he began to figure out the pricing they would set their loot at. "Besides the Gauntlets we were able to get a Rare level Blood Fang Necklace, two Uncommon level Ancient Chanter Rings, and a whole three stacks of Sacrificial Bones—"

"Which are going through a drop right now in the market, so we'll hold off on selling them until prices rise again. That might be next patch, because rumor has it the Necromancers are receiving a new Book skill," Tom pointed out calmly.

"And everyone knows their newer Book skills take a crap load of Bones to use, right?" Harry rolled his eyes. "If that class wasn't so bloody useful in PvE, I'd think they'd not be worth the galleons it takes to fund them."

"They're too useful in boss runs either way," Severus replied. "The money they make more than pays for the cost of their Book spells. A utility mage that does damage? The only fault would be their utter lack of a good span of spells to PvP with, and that's the exact reason that they're balanced."

"Too bad you don't do more damage, Sev," chuckled the berserker. "We'd make millions selling you off to service in boss runs—you'd run the Necromancers out of business!"

"I'm not even going to reply to that, brat," Severus said without hesitating for a second.

"As much as I do so regret interrupting your friendly banter," Tom interrupted, voice laced with amusement as he found the irony in _Severus_ being the one caught, "I have to point out _two_ of us have work tomorrow, and a certain imp has a rather large history test as well at—what was it, 9 AM?"

"8:30," Harry sulked. "And I don't even care anymore. It's impossible to study for history."

"_That_ doesn't sound like you at all," Severus noted with a raised brow.

"Well, it's true! Every single history test takes _everything_ from the entirety of what we've learned, which means I either re-read the whole textbook and hope I keep some of that information or pick and choose and leave out studying some other place—"

"So what you mean is that it's impossible to _successfully_ study for history," Tom pointed out, his tone light and almost nonchalant in its way of being voiced.

"You're splitting hairs," he muttered.

"No, I'm simply trying to get you to realize that you're getting lazy. It's almost the end of the year, after all—"

"And closer to the time I'm rid of you for good in my classroom," Severus sneered. "Goodness knows what teacher you'll be tormenting _next_."

Harry grinned cheekily. "So I rebel just _once_ at the beginning of the year, and it went _so well_ that you're _still_ hung up on it? Why Sev, I didn't know you knew how to give compliments."

"We'll see how cheeky you get when you're taking my final exam," snarled the professor.

"Will you add a dozen challenge questions to my test, _just for me_?"

"Stop antagonizing your teacher and go to sleep," interrupted Tom, and though Harry pouted _just a bit_, he ended up obeying anyways.

They bid their farewells and goodnights and what-nots, turning in to pass another day of the year, another day closer to summer, another day closer to the Championships and, inevitably, Harry knew, where they'd give the best fight they could give for the grand prize of €200,000.

* * *

**Sorry for the wait! I've actually been quite focused on Ao3... woops. But on the good side, I've got a beta, who beta-d this chapter! Say hello and thank you to** Chronos Mephistopheles**. And more good news, I'm writing more TMR/HP slash! Haha.**

**You'll be getting Living in the Moment, a TMR/HP Harvest Moon:FoMT-universe drabble series, and also In Lukewarm Water, which is the sequel to that really long oneshot that I mentioned, but never finished. So there. xD**

**By the way, in this chapter, if anyone is old-school enough to remember, The Void is a reference to the really old, used to be really good, MMORPG Endless Online. There used to be (and if it's still online, then still is) a secret entrance in the bar, where you would pass through a series of mazes in both The Void and a place that looked like a beach; in my head I called this Illusion land, haha. Then once you got through all of that you would end up behind the counter, and be able to check the chest for some free gold or beer.**

******Thanks a lot for all your support! You guys are really awesome :)**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


	27. Quest XXIV: Bossing with the Best

**Warnings:** future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

**Pairings: **TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

**Standard disclaimer applies:** I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. _J.K. Rowling_ is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

**Beta:** Chronos Mephistopheles

* * *

Despite the fact that the quintet (now turned a group of six with the addition of Draco) were inside a soundproofed room, the lull in questions and discussion made for a rare niche of silence, and even Neville, who was currently explaining the most recent lesson of STATs to Ron, kept his voice at a murmur to preserve the temporary peace.

Honestly, their study group didn't even have everyone in the same classes. Hermione was taking as many Advanced Placements as she could without collapsing, Ron was just trying to get by, Luna took whatever she pleased, and Neville… well, Neville was like Granger, only his limit bar was set a lot lower. However, the group that they formed could, logically, be used for study (what with Harry and Hermione _both_ there), and so that was what they had done in the years past and even now.

The only difference was the inclusion of Draco Malfoy, who Harry grudgingly admit was a good inclusion, even though how well he got along with the rest of the group could be questioned. Repeatedly.

For all of his pompous attitude in class, the blond _truly did_ know the material very, very well, and he even knew the subjects outside of his school classes, probably from private tutors his father hired. So, all and all, Draco was a welcome addition and Harry was not bothered in the least (at all!) to have another person at their table, especially when it was so close to finals and said person proved to be another resource of knowledge.

Harry sighed as he completed the review sheet that had been given by his AP Literature teacher. Professor Tonks _certainly_ did not shirk on making sure her students knew _exactly what she wanted them to know_. Thus, even though the work was long and tedious, filled with literary terms and review on who-wrote-what and the background of those _who_s, it always paid off in the end. Let it not be said she did not care about how well her students did on her self-made exam.

He glanced up as he reached for his water bottle sitting in the middle of the desk, only to find Granger staring at him again. The first couple times during their study session he had put it off for a mindless gaze in a random direction, as Harry was also prone to do when he was thinking hard about something, but this was ridiculous.

What was that saying again? _"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action_._"_ Perhaps the context would need a bit of shifting, considering that Auric Goldfinger probably didn't write his famous phrase with the idea of a little harmless mystery, but the general base was the same.

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked warily when she would not stop staring, even after he took his drink.

She gazed at him with a searing, curious look, and then her eyebrows wrinkled and she was suddenly pursing her lips. "I know this is most likely the stupidest thing I've ever asked, especially because it's _you_ that I'm speaking to and you wouldn't be _nearly_ so reckless as to—as to—… well… Harry, please tell me if I'm wrong but, is that a hickey on your neck?"

By the time the question was out of her mouth, Hermione already had everyone else's attention. Now they were _all_ staring at him, and Draco, who was sitting right next to him, leaned closer to get a glimpse and whispered a "bloody hell," when he saw the mark peeking out of his collar.

Harry clenched his left hand in a fist, trying to refrain from the urge to reach up and clamp down on that particular side of his neck. That would only incriminate him.

He had woken up that morning, looked in the mirror while he was in the bathroom and had seen the very mark they were talking about, but once he had put on his button-up shirt he had _thought_ it would be well hidden. It had seemed so, but apparently not.

So, with a great, forced calm, he looked her in the eye over the rim of his glasses and said—lying through the skin of his teeth all the while—"No."

The Harry versus everyone else staring contest continued on for at least another fifteen seconds before it was interrupted by the sound of Weasley's voice.

"Mate," Ron began, his tone a mix of the type one used to lecture and the kind that came from a shocked-into-calm sort of event, "I have four brothers, and a younger sister. Those four brothers _all_ have had girlfriends—well, for Charlie, a boyfriend—and Ginny's had her fair share of dates too, so I think I know _exactly_ what a hickey looks like, no matter how big or small or dark or light it is. And you know what, _that_—"he pointed to the reddish purple bruise that stood out against Harry's pale skin, the white collar emphasizing it even further,"—is _definitely, clear as a finished Rubix Cube_, a hickey."

The awkward silence that filled the room continued on far after Ron put his hand down. Harry for his part was a little bit scared of whatever questions would pop up and a more-than-healthy chunk of mortified. "Uh," he floundered, "…whatever you say, Ron."

He desperately turned back to his work, trying to find salvation in something that would show his clear reluctance to enter _any_ type of conversation involving what may or may not be a love bite on his neck that Tom had been so _generous_ to leave, but they weren't going to leave him alone just like that. Especially not—Luna…?

The blonde giggled from beside him, on his right so she had no view of the bruise. "Harry, turn your head over this way please? I want to see it! From the way everyone was looking at you, it must be _really dark_!"

Harry almost buried his head into his hands to hide his no doubt growing in color cheeks. If _Luna_ was going to take part in this "fun", then there was no way he was escaping here without being drilled several dozens of questions.

"Oh, it's _dark_ alright," Draco replied, having apparently gotten out of his stupor. "Hey, how far down your neck does that go—?"

He was embarrassed to say that he had actually _slapped_ Draco's hand away when it reached over to pull at his collar. "I don't think that's any of your business," he muttered. Next time he woke up with such a mark, Harry decided he would be sure to put a band-aid on it or… something. Scarves did not suit the weather, and neither did turtlenecks.

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Harry," Luna said in that kind of conversational, chiding voice. "I can't _believe_ the nargles kept this from me!" Then, she physically grabbed his chin and forcefully turned his head so she got a slight view of the other side of his neck.

"L—Luna!" Neville spluttered. His girlfriend let go after she had her eyeful.

"I… have to say that was a terribly rude thing to do," Hermione struggled to say. "Err… if Harry… doesn't want to show us then…"

She ignored them both. "Oh," Luna breathily sighed, "whoever left _that_ must be terribly confident. By the way it sort of just peeks over your collar you'd _think_ it wasn't that big of a mark, but—"

"What? Really?" Draco lost all of his decorum as he wrestled to see too. Harry was sure he was bright red, and not just because of his tiny scramble with the blond to defend his neck.

All pretenses of it being a study group dropped, and revealed that they all were, for the greater part, good friends. "Nice catch, mate," Ron congratulated as he too got out of his shock. "Do we know her?"

Hermione gave up too. "I'm sure she doesn't go to our school, unless you're keeping your relationship a secret. Will we get to meet her sometime soon? I mean, she'll be there for our graduation, surely?"

"Err…"

They sensed his hesitation. "…Harry?"

"It's not… um… well…"

"Well what?" Hermione asked curiously without any hostility.

Before he was able to make a fool out of himself, Draco cut in rather abruptly. "You're right, Granger. If Harry doesn't want to talk about it, then he shouldn't. He won't. He doesn't have to."

The fact that Draco _Malfoy_ was agreeing to something _Hermione Granger_ said in a willing admittance without _any type of_ malignance or ulterior motive was nothing short of shocking. Instead of staring at Harry, everyone's eyes—including Luna's—turned to the blond. Hermione was even _gapping_.

"Uhm…"

It seemed like everyone else was speechless, too. Harry sighed quietly in relief.

"Well… okay… Draco…" Neville stumbled awkwardly over his words, trying to get rid of the strange sort of tension-not-tension in the air. "I… I completely agree with you. Harry, you… you have the right to tell us whenever you want, without feeling pressured." He finished with a bit more confidence than what he started with.

"…Thanks, Neville."

Ron struggled to fill in the gap too. "…So… can anyone explain how the _bloody hell_ you draw the graphs of these weird polar things?"

Granger took her boyfriend's silently offered change of subject with increasing gusto. She immediately began to explain, sketching out the steps on a scratch piece of paper, eyes once or twice flickering to Draco but otherwise remaining steadfast on her task.

Luna giggled, as if immensely amused by the whole fiasco.

Harry didn't really know what to feel, especially because Draco refused to look him in the eye. The distance between their shoulders wasn't anything strange or too close, like usual, but somehow, the gap felt wider than before, as if the blond refused to have _even the slightest chance_ of touching him.

Weird. And, considering how Draco had first acted (and continued to), rather out of character.

They went through the next hour trying to recover from this strange sort of awkward imprint that had settled upon them.

"Draco? Could I talk to you?" Harry asked when they had all parted ways. He saw the Malfoy pause and turn back to look at him bemused.

"Something that you needed?" he asked with forced casualty.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately interrupted.

"Look, I know you're… _with_ Mr. Riddle, but you don't have to worry! I'll keep your secret, Harry, so—"Draco turned away, licking his lips,"—so don't… err… you can trust me, okay? Just… if he hurts you in _any_ way, let me know."

"…Okay…" Harry muttered with a raised brow. "But… that's not what I wanted to talk to you about…? I mean… wait—should I even ask how you—?"

"Oh… uh… well…"

"Yeah…?"

"This is sort of awkward," they both said simultaneously, and then burst into nervous laughter.

Draco coughed, clearing his throat as if to clear the air of whatever they had been trying to say to each other. They would start on a new page… clearly both of them had different ideas of how _that_ would go. "So, what was it that you needed to speak to me about?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, yesterday in the computer lab, see I was coming in to work on my report, and, err, saw you. I wasn't spying, I was just curious what you were doing in the emptiest computer lab in the whole school, so…"

"So?"

"I saw your screen," blurted Harry. "Sorry. I didn't mean to, and I'm not going to bust you or anything, I mean, obviously not—you're my friend, right?—and what you were doing was pretty harmless anyways, but—"he was forced to stop as he saw Draco's rapidly paling face.

"You… saw?"

"Yeah, but, I mean, your secret's safe with me—"Harry took a moment to chuckle at that"—don't worry. I was just… I mean, I'm not trying to blackmail you or anything, but now that I know, I was wondering if you could do me a favor—? With incentive, of course," he added quickly once he had seen the blond's expression harden.

"…What kind of favor?"

Here, Harry grinned impishly. "Well, it just so happens that I've been _trying_ to get through some negotiations with the Clan Vigilante…" When Draco's guarded look didn't change, he sighed and continued. _Looks like I'll have to give it away._ "There's been a suspicious amount of disconnections going on amongst the Elite—"

"Hold up," Draco demanded. "The only person that's been consistently making meaningful requests about that problem that _isn't_ one of the four leaders is—wait, don't tell me you're—?!"

He smiled sheepishly. "Would you like to help a friend out?"

Harry chuckled, taking a sip from his water bottle as he watched the players position themselves on the screen. Everything would work out _perfectly_, and just in time, too! Maybe he really _was_ lucky in real life as well? Certainly he had cashed in _something_ recently, because everything was playing out just fantastically, and he didn't know if he could ever find a situation fitting to his convenience so… effortlessly.

Oh well. No time to question Fate, right?

He saw all the party members stack on top of each other, obscuring names from discovery. Everyone had turned their _view profile_ options off the minute they had logged on today for the boss run, which would stop the hacker's spies from getting their names to disconnect them. Through a very intricate private messaging network, wherein every party leader messaged him the attendance and readiness of their party, Harry was able to find out exactly _who_ was the worm in the map.

And that information was exactly what he needed—well, _Draco_ needed, but he understood why!

"Imp, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Tom's right," Severus agreed. "We could be losing a _lot_ of profit. You said Vigilante didn't respond to you—why are we doing this run again if we don't have their support?"

"Don't worry. I have everything covered," Harry assured. "Everyone on your parties okay?"

Tom sighed. "Yes. Bishop and Paladin both accounted for—as well as the other mages."

"Severus?"

"Everyone's here. Your party?"

"Yeah—"Harry was abruptly cut off by his cell phone ringing,"—oh! Hold on, I need to take this."

Somewhere miles away, in a dimmed room with a dual-screened desktop being the brightest source of illumination, Draco Malfoy sat at his desk, glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose with a pair of headphones resting around his neck. Resting against his ear was his own cell phone.

"Harry! You got the worm?"

"Yeah. It's either ProcTorAtor or TwinFang577, though I'm rather sure it's the latter with his gear and his level. That enough info for you?"

Draco grinned, showing off his white gleaming teeth as he heard the name of his prey. "Oh, splendid. Are you all ready on your side?"

"Everyone's ready for the run. They just want the signal."

"Alright. Checking in with my own team right now—"Draco put down the phone, setting it on speaker before turning back to his second monitor. "Are you ready?"

"Silly little dragon," Pansy Parkinson mocked, "we're _always_ ready. Isn't that right, Blaise?"

"Technically we're never ready when we've _finished_, but whatever you want to hear, Pansy," he shrugged.

"In other words, yes," Daphne cut in as she saw her companion's mouth open to argue.

"Hey! Daphne, you can't just say _yes_! A proper lady is _always_ coy in the face of a question—"

"Draco, just tell your friend to start before they get at it, won't you?" Theo sighed. "I _don't_ want to be doing work while these two play out their whole banter."

Draco was more than inclined to agree. "Alright," he said, his voice projected towards his phone, "we're ready. Count down?"

Harry smiled. "Thanks a lot for doing this, Draco. You'll get your cut _and_ personal recognition from the Baron after everything's done and split."

Severus choked. "Draco?! What does he have to do with this—"

"Okay, on _Go_," the berserker continued, ignoring his team mate.

"Three," Draco began, and the noise of fingers tapping on the keys of a keyboard could be heard through his speakers.

"Two," Harry chimed in.

"One—"

"_Go!_" As the word left his lips, Draco smirked and dramatically slammed the enter key, watching in satisfaction as the rest of his team began to yell out confirmations.

"TwinFang577 has disconnected," Theo calmly announced.

"ProcTorAtor is no longer online," Pansy said smugly.

Draco chuckled. "Hear that, Harry? Worms are gone, you can go now."

"Thanks Draco! Okay, signal, quick!" Harry cried, and team Deathly Hollows reacted as one as they all pressed their macro button on F1. Instantly a set of skills played out from somewhere in the dense crowd, and in rapid succession, all of the players in the waiting room disappeared.

They had gotten past phase one.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Draco leaned back into his chair with a satisfactory smile on his face. He watched as his chat log fill up with PMs from various IGNs, all a confirmation that _whoever_ they were assigned to was now disconnected.

Once Harry had explained the situation, it had been relatively easy to get the names of the hackers, especially because they had all been in _one clan_. They were powerful, yes, but their influence only extended with threats and terror, obviously not the best way to go about dominating a game. There would always be the resistance to them, even deadlier as they would be anonymous.

Draco chuckled to himself. HaXorz4LiFE had not been very hard to find. Not at all. It was actually _getting _all of their names that had been the problem. Though the clan held an appropriate amount of players, all of those players had many other accounts to use while they hacked; this was difficult to trace. Who knew which one of them could be used during the boss run?

But it was Harry's mention of Cypher that really concluded the whole ordeal. Cypher was a close friend of the leading team of the clan, and so narrowing it down to _who_ was doing the hacking was relatively easy—especially because certain snips and pieces of drama were rather well known in the society of the Elite. All he had had to do was run a… search, of sorts…in game, and in person.

HyperCypher had really made it _too easy_. The player was an asshole, though a pro player nonetheless, and it felt good to bring his whole plan down a notch or two. But to complete that, first Draco would have to fulfill _his_ part.

He quickly opened up two clients of CoS, one for each screen, and logged onto two separate mule accounts that he would delete quickly after. More than likely the main account of the one who was using the disconnection hack had taken due precaution against anyone who would try to disconnect _him_ instead, but Draco was perfectly fine with that.

"Track ZER0sAnd0NEz for me," he called, and received the reply from Blaise.

"Ravenclaw HQ, basement of the Clan Registry, on the third step behind the crates at the very back, channel eight."

_Bingo_.

"I need a spam for a drop party at that exact location Pansy," ordered Draco.

"Done and done, Draco darling," replied Pansy. "Expect a crowd in about one or two minutes—maybe even more. I'm spamming in the Ravenclaw square right now."

"Who told her to log on to a Ravenclaw?" Blaise mused.

"I did," Theo answered. "I thought it would be prudent, considering that we can leave the lessers to the others."

Draco moved his two characters quickly to the location, and immediately was met with a small mob of people that was quickly growing. Huh, convenient. On one of his clients he loaded up his drop hack, and he stood right at the entrance to the door before starting it, each drop ordered as three sets of ten knuts and then a drop of whatever was in his first inventory box, which would continue on five times in rapid succession until a random scroll drop to keep the crowd interested.

Hopefully that would buy him some time.

On his other client, he loaded up his auto clicker hack, right clicking frantically at the spot where Blaise had directed until finally opening the drop down menu of options that one could use to interact with the character they had clicked. He had found him.

In CoS' interface, there were enough manual options to stop practically _all_ interactions with other characters, which included trade, party requests, private messages and all the like. However, there was _one_ exception. Reports.

Draco considered it, just for a second, quickly dismissing the idea before clicking "trade". Even if it was blocked, a message should appear at the bottom if the hacker was careless enough to ignore setting his custom settings in the client folder—

_You are unable to trade with player ZER0sAnd0NEz_.

Draco grinned. _Got you!_ He quickly set his cursor on a methodic spot that would allow his auto clicker to continuously right click and then press "trade". This would generate a stream of messages at a rapid pace to spam the hacker's chat box… which wouldn't be enough if it was _just_ a single person, but…

"Daphne?"

"His trade's open?"

"Yes. Make him pay."

She smiled coldly. "Way ahead of you, Wyvern."

Spam coming from _one_ source wouldn't be enough to overload his client and cause him to lag—causing eventual disconnection—but _five_, on the other hand, was plenty. Draco turned to his other screen and exited the drop hack, letting one more scroll drop for the hell of it before right clicking on the hidden player again and turning on another auto clicker, only on the "report" button instead.

Normally he wouldn't. Hackers, even if they were technically against each other, just didn't aim for low blows. But he couldn't help but admit that a hacker who was another player's bitch (especially _Cypher's_, of all people) was pushing it. Shame to the player who would submit so easily to the whims of another! They had their pride, their dignity, and this—_this_ was giving them _all_ a bad name.

Of course, this wasn't _at all_ because ZER0sAnd0NEz had recently been a thorn in Vigilante's side. No, not at all. He wasn't taking revenge. _This wasn't personal…_ really. In fact, Draco couldn't really say that the player was doing _anything_ directed to his clan, but perhaps that was why it was so infuriating.

_Because he couldn't point a finger and shout, _hey! It's all your fault!

This would be a good lesson for them—always take in account who you're indirectly affecting when you launch a virtual war against the Elite.

"So, how's your run?" he asked his friend conversationally as he picked up his cell again.

"No disconnections at all," Harry replied, his voice oozing satisfaction as he tapped certain keys on his keyboard to control his character. "No mishaps either. Everything's running just fine."

"_Good_," Draco commented across the line. _"Everything's fine over here too. We didn't have to spam his PMs either_."

Private messages were registered through a different notification to the server, as the chat was saved to be checked if it was suspected of any serious malignancy. Normally no administrator looked at it to preserve the privacy of the players, but if something appeared suspicious on their log, obviously it would be checked over. This would _include_ repeated spam messages from the same player, and even if the PMs were blocked and could not be seen, that didn't mean they weren't registered.

However, trade was registered differently. The player's IGN was not recorded if it was a blocked trade, which meant it was a perfect method to perform untraceable spammage as it was unlikely to appear as suspicious, perfect for Draco to take advantage of.

"_Make sure you're more careful of Cypher, alright?_" said Draco, "_It's quite obvious he still has a grudge against you, god knows why._"

"Stupid indeed," Harry agreed. "Hey, I'll call you back after the run's over, alright?"

They bid farewell, and he could not hold in the pleased smile that spread over his face.

"So, let me get this straight," Severus deadpanned, "you enlisted the help of _my godson_?"

"It worked," Harry shrugged.

Tom felt very, very tired, evident in his long sigh. "And the whole story?"

"Cypher was behind it, using his 'friend', and I use the term lightly, as a meat shield."

"This scandal should be more than enough to perma ban him," scowled Severus.

"Not like it's going to be released to the public anyways," Harry grumbled. "Let's just kick his ass, okay? I mean, seriously—everyone from NA servers that I've met are _nice_, _except_ Cypher. What's up with that?"

"He's not a naturally nice person," Tom deadpanned. "What did you expect, a saint?"

"I blame you for rejecting him in such an asshole-ish way," the berserker dramatically declared.

"Asshole…ish? What happened to your vocabulary and what can I do to bring it back?" Severus asked with a raised brow.

"Nothing."

"He had no right to ask anyways," Tom huffed in reply to Harry. "Admittedly he's a skilled player, yes, but to think that he can make demands _out of me_ was ludicrous—"

"Are you admitting to inviting me because you got tired of that creep?!"

"No. You know very well how we formed DH, and should know better than asking such a ridiculous question—"

"Alright, fine," Severus snarled. "You got me. Now _what_ in all the seven hells are you two talking about?!"

They both turned to him as if they had just remembered that their sage was there.

Harry sighed. "You want to tell him, or shall I?"

"If you wish," Tom muttered, turning his focus back to the run. "Switch to the front left leg, by the way."

The berserker rolled his eyes. "Okay, I _hate_ talking about it, but if you really want to know Sev—"

"I do."

"—then I'll tell you. Basically, before DH was formed, VolDeMort and I go way back, only not in the friendliest of manners—"

"That's an understatement," interrupted Tom.

"Fine. You were the biggest asshole in game, okay?"

"_You_ weren't the friendliest of warriors either, if I recall—"

"Before DH was formed?" Severus cut in before they could get off track.

"Right," Harry nodded, "before DH was formed, VolDeMort didn't really have the intention of forming a team, and certainly not with _me_. But then one day he received the invitation to Serpentine from the Baron himself if he could find himself a team, and so obviously because Tom loves to take advantage of everything, he decided to go look for a second person that he could register—"

"Only a second person?"

"I prefer to go for _quality_, _not_ quantity," said Tom dryly.

"Ah."

"_Anyways_," Harry stressed, "Cypher had an account on the EU servers, even though he lives in California. Back then he went by the name of Cancellation, second L as an "I". It just so happens that he was _completely_ obsessed with Tom here—"

"You're making it sound far worse than it actually was," the dark lord interrupted.

"Okay, maybe some exaggeration, but the point is, Cypher wanted to form a team with VolDeMort because for some reason, you two ended up doing a lot of dungeons together—"

"_Quality_," he cut in again.

"He was such a bastard though!"

"As long as we split shares evenly and he did his share of the work, it didn't matter if he had the worst personality out of everyone," Tom shrugged.

"Hmph," Harry huffed. "_I_ see how important I was to you back then—"

"_Cypher_," Severus stressed.

"Oh, right. So, Cypher wanted to team up with VolDeMort but that obviously didn't happen, and instead of accepting the verbal invite from him, Tom invited _me_ in front of, well, the old Elite of Slytherin—Baron and I were discussing profit cuts from the most recent farming run we had and our favorite dark lord just _happened_ to decide _that_ was the time to ask—"

"It was perfect and you know it," Tom said smugly. "He didn't even wait to invite us once we formed DH, just the _minute_ we clicked accept—"

"_Yes_, well, _fine_. That was a smart move on your part," Harry conceded. "_Still_, it pissed Cypher off, humiliated him too because he was actually on his way to becoming one of the Lords, and so he moved to the NA servers, became HyperCypher, and spread random rumors about me because he was jealous. Stupid, right?"

"You're very chatty right now," Severus commented.

"I can't _help_ it! That bastard just—ugh—he's such a—"

"What the imp's trying to say is everything would've been completely fine, if not for the fact that Cypher claimed the move he used to win the tourney for a spot in his current pro team as his—"

"_I _came up with it," Harry grumbled. "We used it to get up to rank twenty! You saw me use it! First time ever! We _planned_ it!"

"Yes, yes," Tom sighed. "I remember."

"What move are you talking about?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrow in inquiry.

"You know the opener Skid Dash-Sword Shield-Tumble Dive?" mumbled Harry.

"The combo all berserkers try to use today," the sage replied. "I don't see why you're mentioning it. There are plenty of counters—"

"Not back then," the berserker pouted moodily.

_That_ cut him short. "…What?" Severus whispered. "You're trying to tell me that _you_—"

"And no one believes it because _stupid Cypher_ was the one who made it famous in the first place!" Harry exploded. "He said he didn't even pay attention to EU after he left for NA! Lies I tell you! All fucking lies!"

"Calm down, imp," Tom commanded. "It's been _how long_ since then?"

"Still! He just—it just—he—ugh!"

"Obviously you feel very strongly about this," noted the third member of DH. "Why didn't you combat his claim?"

"The hell was I going to say?" Harry growled. "DH was nobody back then. No one would've watched our match, hell our opponents probably didn't even remember us afterwards! There was no recording of it, and it just so _happens_ to be that one of the very few spectators that were just randomly watching _random_ ranking matches was—"

"I knew there was drama in the Elite," murmured Severus, "but things like this—?"

"That's not even the worst of it," the berserker said mournfully. "Let's see—how far are we into this? Oh, only the first head?—I'll tell you how ArtOfKnowledge came to be the number one clan in Ravenclaw."

"…There's a story to that?" Severus asked curiously.

"Of course," Tom answered. "There's a story to everything. However, I have to admit, _this_ particular debacle is _far_ more interesting than the others—"

"You see," Harry began, "It all started when the co-clan leaders of ArtOfWar, the Ravenclaw head at the time, got into a fight that led to the actual teams taking sides—"

* * *

**Did you miss me? Haha. I know I missed you guys! Recently my activity has been centered around Ao3, or so it seems, but that's only because the works posted there are going to be un-beta'd.**

**Alright, here you go. Conclusion of the D/C arc (sorry for everyone who thought Draco was the hacker. He _is_ one, but not _the_). You also get to see more plain 'ol DH interaction-what else is there to do during a boss fight other than gossip? Certainly not concentrate. I mean, it's pretty brainless once you've done it a lot; attack here, dodge that, get ready for so-and-so combo... legendary bosses are predictable.**

**You all also get the whole situation between Scarred and Cypher. Bet you didn't see _that_ one coming, hmm?**

**I'd just like to note that the events in this chapter are actually based off of _actual_ situations found in _actual_ games. The whole disconnection drama really happened in a game called Maplestory, when the Horntail boss was first released. For awhile it actually became a problem during Zakum runs too (another boss). The story about ArtOfKnowledge is based off of a lesser guild's fight (though I was not there for the actual fight, only heard about it from someone who was) in the game Runescape. SO YEAH THIS IS SORTA KINDA NOT REALLY REAL.**

**Thanks for all of your reviews! I really appreciate them, but it hurts me inside when you guys post a wonderful review under anonymous with questions I'd like to answer, but therefore can't because you haven't logged on :(. Please log on to post your review if you have a question in it!**

**Sincerely,**

**R.R.**


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